img The Gentleman Biker  /  Chapter 6 : GABRIEL | 8.70%
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Chapter 6 : GABRIEL

Word Count: 1341    |    Released on: 16/02/2022

ome action. I didn’t want to yell up to him or give his position away, so I pulled my ph

ssed the tow

here, you know where. And

ere he’d been as he leaped to the ground about twenty feet below and took o

and hung up as I heard an engine roar to life somewhere on the other side of the lot. Fi

leared, were going about their tasks while the others were still waiting for me to vet them. There had been more than a few grum

othing to do with me. It’s like a business takeover; it’s up to the new owner if he keeps on any of the old staff or not. If it were up to m

e clubhouse where I’d left her and her mom that face, those eyes, and that mouth came flooding back to memory. Sh

ies had sent to entrap me. But she was too green. The look in her eyes was too innocent for her to play the ga

n that hang around here, and I’m thinking that’s thanks to the mother as timid as she is. Somehow she’d been able to

He had to have known something was wrong there because today was the third time I had t

his focus being only on finding out who was using his outfit to traffic human flesh

that might help with what I’d promised dad to take care of. Human trafficking isn’t something I’ve worked wit

er, either, which leads me to believe that dad had been barking up the wrong tree. No way, one of these assholes was the brain

eing while I clean this shit up? It stands to reason the real buyer had either seen h

to the room, where it looked like neither woman had moved since I’d left. I studi

ons I refuse to look at too closely, for now, I want to keep in my sights. Her I want to watch over myself and not leav

ifted her head and looked at me, I felt the air flow through my lungs easily again, but that pain in my chest that seemed to be ce

her own father was about to sell her to someone else. Misplaced as it was, I understood. “Lo

w wayward thoughts to infiltrate my mind? Maybe I’m not getting enough sleep; it’s for certain that my nutrition ha

l on the clock. It’s her; she’s fucking up my equilibrium and doing it so effortlessly it should be a c

d of, but the two of you can’t

clung to each other like survivors of a wreck. Should I tell her tha

ion get the better of me, but I knew even before a plan began to form fully in my head that the

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