Chrome & Leather: Liars Tomb (Motorcycle Club Romance) Read Free Page A

within stop beating against my chest. 
    It was a familiar feeling. A pressure behind my eyes as if I was filling up inside with a thick and viscous fluid. My fingers would feel fat and unwieldy as if I was made out of thick slabs of meat. The pressure inside would grown and grow and unless I did something about it I would explode. I had never let it get to that stage. I was afraid to let the pressure build. I did not want to let it obliterate me, ripping and tearing at my flesh as it found the point of least resistance and ripped through my soft weak body. I had found a way to relieve the building pressure. The crushing and breaking of weak men, the kind of men who took advantage of women, these where my pressure valves. I would rend them until they where nothing but a grease stain on the ground.
    Linda's story gave me something to latch onto, a release point for the growing weight behind my eyes. I think a visit to the hospital to take care of a loose end for her was inevitable. Rationally I knew the visit could bring untoward attention to me, but my heart told me it was the right thing to do. It was the only way to ease the mounting pressure.
    I reattached the chain to the tree stump as we headed up the dirt road to the small wood cabin.
     
    The cabin stood in a small clearing surrounded by silver birch trees. Parked outside were three motorbikes. The sun glinted off the polished chrome of the exhaust pipes. Birds chirped as they dove into a dark cloud of insects buzzing in the air, snatching mouthfuls of the bugs as they swooped about. 
    As Blackjack pulled up in front of the cabin the door opened and a man with greasy blonde hair walked out. He wore a beaten up leather jacket that looked like it had seen several lifetimes of action. The elbows where scuffed and worn and it looked like the man lived in the jacket. 
    Blackjack stopped the bike and got off. The blonde haired man came down the steps and they hugged like brothers. 
    "This here is Linda Lake, she helped me out back at the ambush," Blackjack said.
    The blonde man tipped a hat that wasn't there towards her.
    "I'm Bill, but everyone calls me Red," he said extending a hand to Linda.
    She took his hand and it was engulfed in a large warm and calloused embrace. 
    "That's one hell of a shiner you have there," Red said.
    "You should see the other guy," Linda said and giggled nervously.
    Red winked at her and turned to Blackjack.
    "Is he ready?" said Blackjack.
    "Yeah we got the jump on him when he was leaving some whores place in old-town. He didn't know what hit him. He's inside cooling his heals right now. He will be happy to see you," said Red smiling a shark tooth grin.
    "Is everything else set up?" asked Blackjack.
    Red nodded and leaned up against his bike. He took out a match from a back pocket in his grease stained jeans and started to pick his teeth with it.
    "How bad was the fracas at the bar?" 
    "Nothing I couldn't handle. They where packing some serious heat. I didn't recognise any of them. They looked like out of town help. Things got dicey for a minute. Linda helped even the odds."
    "You can handle yourself?" said Red admiringly to Linda.
    "I know which end of a gun to point at trouble," Linda deadpanned.
    Red let out a snort of a laughter and said "you're a veritable Calamity Jane, good for you".
    Linda gave him a slight smile. He seemed friendly enough, but she could see that behind his openness and jokey charm was a darting furtive intelligence. She could feel herself being sized up even as he smiled innocently and laughed along with her.
    "I think we have let him stew long enough, lets do this," Blackjack said and walked towards the door.
    "What about her?" asked Red.
    "You wait outside while I have a little chat with a compatriot of mine. It wont take too long," said Blackjack.
    Linda nodded and hung back by the bikes. There was nothing she could do. She knew from studying the stacks of files on motorcycle gangs that most of them never let any