Courts and Cabals 2 by G.S. D'Moore (warren buffett book recommendations TXT) 📗

“Look who’s building his own harem now,” she ducked when I threw my breakfast sandwich wrapper at her.

“And don’t call me master,” I said, still trying to take things slow. “My name is Cam.”

“Okay, Master Cam,” Fern replied with a straight face, that set Dani off in another fit of laughter. Judging by her surprised and confused look, Fern didn’t understand the joke. That was the last time I tried to make conversation on the way to Vegas.

I knew we were getting close when we passed Nellis Air Force Base. I thought they flew a lot of the drones out of there, but if they did, the runways were too far back from the perimeter fence for me to see. I made sure not to look out the window for too long. Even with the tint, it probably wouldn’t be good for my health if the US government identified me on facial recognition software right now.

I’d just spotted the casinos on the Las Vegas strip, glittering in the mid-afternoon sunlight, when I first noticed the rumble. It was like thunder in the distance, but there were no rain clouds in the sky, and it never stopped. It got closer and closer, until it crested a hill and descended down the highway to catch us. At least fifty, black Harley Davidson motorcycles roared like a pride of lions as they surrounded us. Hard-looking men and women in jeans and leather vests peaked through the windows as they slowed us down and brought us off to the side of the road. Cars veered around us and quickly sped up. I wished one or two were calling the cops before I remembered I was a fugitive, and then I prayed the gods ignored my previous wish.

I’d spent a good chunk of my freshman year working my way through Sons of Anarchy; so, I knew a motorcycle gang when I saw one. I also saw plenty of weapons, not all of them concealed, military insignias, and one-percenter patches. These people weren’t weekend hobbyists on a joyride. These were drug-dealing, arms-running killers. Or at least that’s what Hollywood wanted me to believe.

A monster of a man with graying hair, ripped jeans, and arms that looked like he could wrestle a tank, and win, flicked down his kickstand and got off his bike. A salt-and-pepper beard hung a third of the way down his leather-bound chest, where there was a patch that said President in bold white letters. I looked at the back of another person’s vest and saw that this was the Fang and Claw motorcycle gang, Las Vegas chapter.

I gulped as the man sauntered up to Xamira’s window and tapped on the glass. The SUV we were in was easily seven feet tall, and he had to bend down to look in the window. Surprisingly, Xamira started rolling it down.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I hissed, but it was too late.

“Howdy,” the man had a southern accent that was a lot more handsome than his face. He looked like he’d gone one to many rounds with a heavy-weight boxer over his lifetime. That, or he just came out of his momma ugly as sin.

“Dameon,” Lilith smiled at the hulking man. “It’s been a while.”

“Miss Lilith,” he tipped an imaginary hat to the succubus. “And who else do we have here?”

“I haven’t seen you in years. How can it be that you still wear that stank ass cologne?” Dani leaned through the gap in the front seats with a big toothy grin.

“What you smell is the open road, darlin’,” Dameon played it off like he was hurt, but the glint in his eyes told a different story. “How the hell are you, Dani?”

“Better now that you’re here,” she reached across Xamira, and gave his cheeks a good squeeze. She looked like a grandma with no respect for personal boundaries, because she was too old to give a shit.

“Um . . .” my cough caught the man’s attention as he swatted to ward Dani off. The dwarf just laughed.

“And you must be Mr. Dupree. The one who all the hubbub is about,” he extended a hand.

His big, meaty paw completely engulfed mine, and the strength of his squeeze told me he was some sort of shifter. With a club name like Fang and Claw, I bet everyone here was a shifter.

“The Boss sent us to escort you in,” Dameon continued when he finished taking a measure of me as a man, or as a threat. “Po-po is out in force looking for you, and she doesn’t want any misunderstandings. Follow us in, and we’ll get you home.”

Xamira nodded, but didn’t say a word. She just rolled up the window, and we followed the rolling thunder the rest of the way into Vegas. It was one hell of an entrance: encircled by a small army of motorcycle shifters that even the cops stayed clear of. Short of an armored battalion, there was nothing that was going to stand in our way.

Chapter 7

Aveena took the next few hours to seriously prepare for the task in front of her. With a mental flick of the switch, she disassociated herself from the Aveena Foxbelle of the last four years. Things had been fun and carefree at the mortal academy. Her focuses were school and the occasional boy; although, none seemed to rise to the occasion, so she was forced to settle for half-blood changelings with their small dicks and weak fortitude. She was a woman with needs she couldn’t ignore, and she preferred not to play with herself when there was someone willing and able to attend to her needs. Self-pleasure was beneath her dignity.

She closed her eyes in the picturesque, snow-covered field, and when she opened them, she had changed. She was no longer