Trip's Retribution (Hell Raiders MC Book 3) Read Online Free
Author: Aden Lowe
after seven a.m. He stayed silent, listening, wary of things at play he had no part in.
"…tried. They're both locked in. No way to get the doors open."
Fully alert, Trip tried to catch more of the conversation.
"Go over their bikes then. I know Buffalo was expecting them, but I'm not taking chances. I don't like how that one turned down the girls. Old lady or not…"
Evidently the men moved on, since the words trailed off.
Huh. He sat up, considering the possibilities, and grabbed his phone to text Stella. The Hell Raiders had long-standing protocol for such situations. With the phone on silent, he keyed in 1-8-0-0 and pressed send. The military equivalent of six p.m. would warn Stella to watch his six o'clock, or his back.
The smokes he bought at the gas stop lay out of easy reach on the dresser, but he stretched for them and lit up, grabbing the butt can he'd spotted earlier on the floor by the bed. A beer would go really good, but the chances of alerting the Saxons to his suspicions were too great. Better they thought he and Stella stayed ignorant.
The phone vibrated to signal a reply from Stella. ' 411.' His brother had received the message loud and clear, and had more information. Despite the surly attitude and reluctance to speak, Stella rivaled Kellen and Crank in intelligence. Not much got past him.
Half an hour went by, and Trip tired of waiting. Careful not to wake Tanya, he dressed, made a last check to ensure he left no information or valuables with his belongings on the dresser, and left the room. If the Saxons wanted a chance to check him out, he'd give it to them. Only he would control what they found.
Out in the main room, one Saxon watched local news on a big-screen TV and another chatted quietly with the bar girl. Trip signaled for a beer and when he accepted the glass, the girl, a different one from before, offered a friendly smile. Caution made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. Striving for casual, he pulled up a stool and sat.
The Saxon the girl had been talking with left, heading back the way Trip had come. Interesting. No doubt his room was already being tossed. Annoyance flashed over him. He had better things to do than go through his own shit to make sure no electronic bugs hitched a ride.
"Mornin', handsome." The deep Southern drawl reminded him of home and sounded entirely out of place.
He grinned and took a sip of his beer. "Hello, sweetheart. What's a nice girl like you doing up at this ungodly hour?"
She threw her head back and laughed. "Well, if it's such an ungodly hour, what does that say about you?"
"I never made any claims about being nice." With only part of his mind on flirting shamelessly, and perfectly aware he was being purposely delayed, Trip focused on figuring out why the hell the one bastard thought he and Stella had something to hide.
After only a few sips of his beer, he made a show of checking the time and excusing himself. Outside, he saw no signs of anyone around his and Stella's bikes, but the crumbling pavement would hide a lot of things. Wary as hell, he looked his bike over carefully. Nothing seemed out of place, but that meant absolutely nothing.
No matter. He'd better alert Kellen something smelled rotten about the Saxons. The Hell Raiders Prez might have something Trip should watch for.
Very aware someone else heard every word, he filled Kellen in, and answered a few questions carefully in coded words.
"A'ight, man, stay in touch and keep it tight. I'll let the others know Buffalo was held up so we might have to delay a little." Kellen ended the call, leaving Trip with no better ideas.
He figured the time had come to drag Stella's ass out. They should be able to leave for food and smokes without arousing too much suspicion. He hoped.
Chapter Three
Buffalo's name suited him perfectly, in Trip's opinion. The Saxons Prez easily made two normal men, and his massive arms would give any body builder pause. Fucker could probably knock a bull out
"…tried. They're both locked in. No way to get the doors open."
Fully alert, Trip tried to catch more of the conversation.
"Go over their bikes then. I know Buffalo was expecting them, but I'm not taking chances. I don't like how that one turned down the girls. Old lady or not…"
Evidently the men moved on, since the words trailed off.
Huh. He sat up, considering the possibilities, and grabbed his phone to text Stella. The Hell Raiders had long-standing protocol for such situations. With the phone on silent, he keyed in 1-8-0-0 and pressed send. The military equivalent of six p.m. would warn Stella to watch his six o'clock, or his back.
The smokes he bought at the gas stop lay out of easy reach on the dresser, but he stretched for them and lit up, grabbing the butt can he'd spotted earlier on the floor by the bed. A beer would go really good, but the chances of alerting the Saxons to his suspicions were too great. Better they thought he and Stella stayed ignorant.
The phone vibrated to signal a reply from Stella. ' 411.' His brother had received the message loud and clear, and had more information. Despite the surly attitude and reluctance to speak, Stella rivaled Kellen and Crank in intelligence. Not much got past him.
Half an hour went by, and Trip tired of waiting. Careful not to wake Tanya, he dressed, made a last check to ensure he left no information or valuables with his belongings on the dresser, and left the room. If the Saxons wanted a chance to check him out, he'd give it to them. Only he would control what they found.
Out in the main room, one Saxon watched local news on a big-screen TV and another chatted quietly with the bar girl. Trip signaled for a beer and when he accepted the glass, the girl, a different one from before, offered a friendly smile. Caution made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. Striving for casual, he pulled up a stool and sat.
The Saxon the girl had been talking with left, heading back the way Trip had come. Interesting. No doubt his room was already being tossed. Annoyance flashed over him. He had better things to do than go through his own shit to make sure no electronic bugs hitched a ride.
"Mornin', handsome." The deep Southern drawl reminded him of home and sounded entirely out of place.
He grinned and took a sip of his beer. "Hello, sweetheart. What's a nice girl like you doing up at this ungodly hour?"
She threw her head back and laughed. "Well, if it's such an ungodly hour, what does that say about you?"
"I never made any claims about being nice." With only part of his mind on flirting shamelessly, and perfectly aware he was being purposely delayed, Trip focused on figuring out why the hell the one bastard thought he and Stella had something to hide.
After only a few sips of his beer, he made a show of checking the time and excusing himself. Outside, he saw no signs of anyone around his and Stella's bikes, but the crumbling pavement would hide a lot of things. Wary as hell, he looked his bike over carefully. Nothing seemed out of place, but that meant absolutely nothing.
No matter. He'd better alert Kellen something smelled rotten about the Saxons. The Hell Raiders Prez might have something Trip should watch for.
Very aware someone else heard every word, he filled Kellen in, and answered a few questions carefully in coded words.
"A'ight, man, stay in touch and keep it tight. I'll let the others know Buffalo was held up so we might have to delay a little." Kellen ended the call, leaving Trip with no better ideas.
He figured the time had come to drag Stella's ass out. They should be able to leave for food and smokes without arousing too much suspicion. He hoped.
Chapter Three
Buffalo's name suited him perfectly, in Trip's opinion. The Saxons Prez easily made two normal men, and his massive arms would give any body builder pause. Fucker could probably knock a bull out
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