Gang Up: A Bikerland Novel Read Free Page B

clean as—”
    The chair banged as it hit the wall. “If you think for a minute those boys will suspect me—”
    “People suspect any old thing, Troy! But only if you let them. You wait a year. You’ll have the biggest estate in the region under your control.”
    Part of being the boss was owning the most land.
    “And what do you get out of that, huh? Pimping out your mother like that? Who are you mating to?”
    Robin gulped. She had already put it together. It was simple addition, really—and these men had just reduced her to a number for acquisition.
    Case turned right to her. “Robin.”

Chapter 3:
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    T he shopkeeper was old and small, nearly fifty in a land that tolerated almost no one over thirty. His skin hung loose on his bones and his hair was all whittled and white. Abigail, smiling, picked up a long gold chain with a curious small jeweled pendant. It was not pretty—nothing really was pretty anymore, unless you were talking about Temple women—but it was nice enough.
    “That’s seven.”
    “Seven?” Abigail shook her head.
    “...Six?”
    If she wanted, she could easily flirt with the shopkeeper and convince him to just give her the jewelry. She had done so before, with other traders, before she learned of the greater power she possessed by being in the Family. But Abigail was a beautiful woman—even in the town of Temple, known all across the Texan region for holding some of the most gorgeous women left in the world. Her body was stacked with huge 36E breasts, her waist narrow, her hair golden and long. Bright ice blue eyes shone out from her almost unreal beauty, her entire face capable of melting men to pieces with a simple little pout.
    But she did not pout—she smiled, small and cruel. She had done this before.
    “Why don’t we go to my brother, and let him decide how much it ought to be?”
    Sweat ran down the shopkeeper’s brow. He knew the score. He had, most likely, known before Robin even walked inside. But it was just occurring to him now how screwed he really was.
    The shopkeeper shook his head quick. “N-no. That’s all right. You know what? Why don’t you take it?”
    “Just take it? I couldn’t leave you with nothing.”
    “Oh, then...half of one? Then...”
    Abigail’s smile was dead inside; she waited for the shopkeeper to notice.
    “No,” he said again. “No, no. My gift to you.”
    Abigail knew how to live in the world as it was, now. Her father had taught her history.
    The Long War had torn everything apart. Ruined everything. Civilization did not necessarily crumble—too ingrained for that—but it did fray and burn, like a quilt left over a burning fire. Pieces remained, none of them truly part of the fabric that had once been.
    After the war, with so many men fighting, there had been an excess amount of women. Only the prettiest—the sexiest, the most willing to submit and comply—had been left. Others had been left behind and unused, unbred. Women now were largely busty, largely wide of hip and narrow of waist. Their bodies beautiful in every way, some voluptuous and some skinny and some slender and some athletic and some a mixture—but always lovely. Always pleasing to men. Otherwise they would not be alive.
    Men got bigger and meaner, then, the ones who were left. To fight over the women who had survived. It was possible to think that with all the women being so pretty, it was impossible to tell which ones were truly more attractive than others—but the body knew. The body always knew. Cocks knew, and pussies too.
    Abigail knew she was horribly attracted to Robin, for example, but the only worse thing than her attraction to her stepbrother was an attraction to a woman; at the end of the day, even a stepbrother could get a stepsister pregnant and give her that perfect feeling of purpose in her life. Two women could not say the same thing for each other, and that was inexcusable in the new order. Lesbian forays were permitted, but only