Wild Child: A Skull Kings MC Novella - Plot & Excerpts
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.
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