Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97418 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97418 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“God damn it.” I use way too much force turning the shower faucet off.
Leaning my head against the tile, I inhale, trying to calm my mind. I can’t allow myself to have even a single hope with Charlie.
There’s no future with her.
She’s not a patch bunny.
She’s someone who could fuck with my head and I should have stayed away. But let’s be honest. I wanted her. Maybe I tempted fate to see if my fantasy was real.
I pull on my slacks, tucking my cock to the side. Of course, I’m rock hard and all I want to do is sink into her cunt and lose myself again.
Maybe after Church, I’ll have someone’s old lady blow me. Jesus, I haven’t even been back two days and I’m falling back into the old life.
Folding my towel, I hang it up. Amy has enough to do and she already cleaned this room. I rip open a new toothbrush that was left on the dark counter and quickly take care of my teeth. I’d like to speak to Blade alone, but until they vote, that won’t happen.
Reaching for my cut, I rub my hands over my numerous patches. As I trail my fingers over it, so many memories come flooding back.
The day I took it off was the day I buried my child.
Closing my eyes, I feel the hot sting of tears as I see her, smell her, and for a moment, I’m at peace with death. In fact, I crave it.
The pain is still alive, eating away at me every day, so agonizingly familiar that I lean over and grasp the granite counter as I swallow back my rage. They say you never get over the death of a child and that’s a fact. But I’ll never forgive myself for not seeing the signs and allowing the nightmare to happen. When Charlie said she felt guilty, she was right. She saved my life but killed that David forever.
“Fuck it.” I grab my cut and jerk it on. The cold leather almost makes me shiver, but a sense of calm takes over as I turn off the light and head down to the conference room.
It’s time for Church.
DAVID/POET
Making my way downstairs, I see numerous old-timers who don’t even bother to hide their stares. That’s fine; they’ve earned their patches and think they can judge my past and my future. They can’t. I nod and give them the respect they deserve.
Ryder is at the conference room door. His eyes give away nothing as I pass and he opens the door. The room is full. The captains and a couple of founders sit and smoke. In the club’s early days, they rode with Blade’s and my grandfather.
We live a hard, violent life. I’m surprised Lucky and Slider are still alive, but they’re too mean to die. I can’t help but smirk as they nod at me.
At times, Lucky was more of a dad to me than my own. He spent hours at our house. And when my mom decided one day that she was done being a mom, Lucky was the first to explain it to me. Numerous times he saved me from my dad’s belt, and for that I’ll always have a soft spot for him.
Blade sits at the head of the conference table looking like a king, arms crossed and eyes serious. If he notices that I have my cut on before they vote, he doesn’t let on.
It’s a bold move and one that could backfire if I cared.
Axel sits next to him, and this time, I do smile. Axel has always been a miserable, distrustful dick. He came into the Disciples because of me.
His dad and mom were separating and he went to our junior high school. I had Biology with him and Blade. He sucked; Blade did not.
They became tight friends, and he started hanging out at the clubhouse more and more. His dad was a drunk who liked to beat up on anything that got in his way. Which is why Axel hates everyone. Well, besides Blade and the club.
“You can stand.” Blade’s voice cuts through the snickering in the crowded room.
Pride swells in my chest. He’s done it—came back when the club was in ruins and made it strong, powerful, and lethal. He deserves to be respected. This life is not for the weak.
It’s why I left; it’s why I’m back.
The brothers stop talking and besides some coughing, the room grows silent.
I scan all the faces, memorizing who is here. A lot has changed in nine years, and yet a lot hasn’t. I reach into my pocket for my smokes and remember I’m out. I’d ask someone for a cigarette, but I can wait. Wanting one makes me more focused, giving me the edge I need.
“I called you brothers here because we need to have a vote.” Blade doesn’t stand and simply leans back in the chair his arms still crossed. The blinking Budweiser sign hums behind him. That fucking sign was humming ten years ago. I smirk at how it’s the little things that can bring a wave of peace. Things change, and yet, do they really?