Read The Filthy Few (Iron Disciples MC) for Free Online Page B

it makes me want to punch
someone; someone like Cade. He’s lucky I’m still wrapped in the warm opiate
blanket or I might actually have the gumption to get up and make good on my
mental promise.
    I close my eyes
for a few minutes, but when the sound of breaking glass penetrates the pink fog
of medication I become alarmed. My eyes fly open just in time to see a leather
clad biker lunge at Cade with a wicked looking knife. Cade moves to the right
as his left hand slips on the outside of his attackers arm, slapping it away. As
the blade whistles by Cade’s neck he grabs the wrist with his left hand, then
strikes the man’s arm just behind the elbow, tearing the ligaments and tendons
that keep the humorous and the ulnar and radial bones together. He does all
this in the space of a fraction of a second and while spinning around to face
the man.
    After Cade
destroys the man’s arm he strikes him in the soft cartilage of the throat with
the blade of his right hand. The man collapses on the rug holding his throat
with his good hand while he gasps for breath. And me…I just stare at Cade,
mouth hanging open. How is it that a man…a human being, could move that fast
and with such deadly precision? I mean come the fuck on…the only time I have
ever seen anything move like that was on Animal Planet when I saw a lion take
down a gazelle. Cade is like that lion and he just literally ripped the throat
out of a gazelle; one clad head to toe in black leather.
    Holy freaking
shit, what will happen to me if he gets pissed off one day? Is he gonna fucking
chase me down like a gazelle and bite me in the throat? I close my eyes and rub
my throat unconsciously and wonder what it feels like to be a gazelle in the
clutches of a six hundred pound hungry lion; not good I imagine.
    I open my eyes
just in time to see another biker two steps from Cade who is still looking down
at the man he killed. Suddenly a knife appears in the other biker’s hand and I
scream.
    “Cade look
out!”
    Cade stiffens
and starts to turn around but it’s too late. His assailant draws the knife
across the front of Cade’s throat from right to left. I blink uncontrollably as
the first bright red spray of blood bathes my face and chest. I hear a thud and
force myself to open my eyes. Cade is lying on the carpet in a widening pool of
his own blood. Oh no…not Cade! The man who just murdered him turns and looks
over at me. Oh shit, this cannot be good.
    “Morgan,” He
says. “What’s wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?”
    What the fuck?
Why wouldn’t I be looking at him like that?
    “Morgan,” he
says again. “What’s wrong?”
    “What do you
fucking think is wrong?” I finally manage to say.
    “Morgan…Morgan…Morgan?”
He keeps saying my name for some weird reason. “Morgan…”
    I wake up with
a start. Cade is sitting on the recliner watching me and drinking a Corona.
There are two other bikers who have pulled up folding chairs and are drinking
beer and watching the basketball game that is still on TV. No one is killing
anyone. There’s no blood on the floor and there is certainly no blood on my
face or chest. What a fucking dream!
    “You okay
Morgan?” Cade asks, getting up and coming over to me.
    “Just a weird
dream.” I reply. “You go back to your game.”
    “Alright,” he
replies. “I’d offer you a beer but alcohol and narcotics don’t mix.”
    “Really? I heard
they mix together nicely.”
    “Well as long
as you’re in my house they won’t be doing any mixing no matter how fine they
are.”
    “Watch your
game already!” I reply, and then shut my eyes so he knows this conversation is
over.
    I try to sleep
but cannot. I have to admit I am curious about my murderous benefactor. How can
he be wearing a patch like the filthy few when it’s common knowledge that means
they have killed for their club? Then there’s the one percent patch. It’s like
he and his cronies are flaunting the fact that they’re not law