Wild Child: A Skull Kings MC Novella by Sage L. Morgan

work.
    It was working well so far.
    He was panting when we finally pulled ourselves apart, and just in time, too. The doorknob turned, and we arranged ourselves appropriately as Jameson finally stepped out. Gabriel’s hand was on my neck again, holding me like I was a slave.
    “He’s ready to see her,” Jameson growled, “and only her.”
    I dutifully stepped forward. I didn’t dare turn my head to look at Gabriel, but I crossed my fingers behind my back for luck. Hopefully, Gabriel recognized it as a positive sign.
    I mentally filed through each step of the plan. Gabriel showed up with me as an offering to gain his crew’s trust. Check. We got inside the house to see the boss. Check. Now, all I had to do was keep the boss talking for long enough while Gabriel worked his magic with his brother and the rest of the Kings. Even if he was “the boss,” he was still no match to a dozen armed bikers. It would give us just enough muscle to get out from under the boss’s nose and away from Vegas.
    So far, so good.
    Jameson opened the door for me and waved me through. I could see a section of the office beyond, and the sight suddenly filled me with dread. I’d never seen the inside of the boss’s office, before. Often, the people who did never came back out. In spite of this, I forced myself to hold my head high. Gabriel had my back, and that was enough.
    So far, so good, I told myself.
    But then, something happened that we hadn’t been counting on. Jameson walked inside with me and shut the door, closing both of us inside the office and away from Gabriel.
    His presence could’ve made no difference, or it could’ve changed everything.

Chapter 15
    ––––––––
    “W elcome home, Lisbeth.”
    The voice sent a familiar chill down my spine. I sought him out immediately. The boss sat in a plush armchair in the corner of the room. When I met his eyes, he gave me a cold, steely smirk.
    Some people on the streets called him “The Swede.” In truth, he’d been born in Buffalo, New York, sometime in the mid ‘70s. But he had this purely emotionless, Nordic look about him that intensified his mystique. Nobody knew his real name, not even me. Us True Northers simply referred to him as “Boss.”
    He reminded me of a T-rex. There was no humanity in his pale eyes, only predation. I tried not to flinch. “This isn’t my home,” I said.
    My throat squeezed shut when I saw a flash of anger pass over his face. For a moment, I thought I’d said the wrong thing. But then, the Boss began to chuckle.
    “Oh, I’ve forgotten how insolent you are. To tell you the truth, it’s quite refreshing.”
    He waved his hand so smoothly that it barely wrinkled his silk shirt. Then, Jameson stepped forward and grasped my wrists. The sound of a switchblade whipped through the air, then I heard its scrape against the nylon rope binding my hands. My fingers tingled when the pieces fell to the ground.
    I pulled my hands forward and flexed them in front of me.
    “You must be wondering why I called you here,” the Boss began.
    “I know why,” I said.
    The Boss gave me a nod. “Then, I’d love to hear your explanation of what happened all those months ago. When you stole from me.”
    The first drops of sweat formed on my brow. The Boss’s glare was as intense as the harsh dome light of an interrogation room, and Jameson’s presence didn’t help any, either. This was some sort of test, I could feel it. But what was the answer he was looking for?
    I tried to nudge him in a different direction. “Where’s Anna?”
    “She’s safe somewhere on this property,” the Boss answered, “although I can’t say the same for your other compatriots.”
    It took a moment for me to realize what he meant. Of course. Two other guys had been in on the cargo-jacking plot with Anna. Apparently, True North had caught up to them. They were probably dead.
    “Then why keep Anna alive? Why not do her like you did my ‘compatriots’?”
    The Boss