Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 107823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
He didn’t really, so he didn’t bother answering.
“‘Cause the sweet butts, who are already whinin’ about how they’re runnin’ outta available brothers, are now talkin’ ‘bout how suddenly you lost fuckin’ interest in them. All of them. That right there’s gonna raise a red flag, E. Shouldn’t even have to mention the fact she’s sneakin’ in and out of your rack at night. Won’t take much for her ass to get caught, like when I slammed into her leavin’ that one mornin’. Ain’t gonna take much for your ass to get caught, either. You best make a plan for when that happens. ‘Cause when it does, it’s gonna hurt like fuck.”
“No plan needed. It’s over.”
Whip headed toward the propped open double-doors that led out to the courtyard and threw over his shoulder, “Riiiiight. You keep tellin’ yourself that.” Laughter followed in his wake.
Fuck.
Chapter Five
He should go back into The Barn, find a new sucker and try to win another game of Eight-Ball. More scratch to put toward his new Street 750 wouldn’t hurt. But he couldn’t force himself to move from his spot.
His gut was full of fall-off-the-bone pork, a huge helping of Cassie’s bomb-ass potato salad, three ears of sweet corn on the cob, two large slabs of Shay’s banging cornbread, a whole Solo cup full of Stella’s badass baked beans and, to top it all off, a pot brownie made by Billie.
The brownie had kicked his fucking ass.
He lifted a Solo cup now full of beer instead of beans to his lips, let the cold brew slide down his throat and when he was done, released a long sigh.
The sun had just dipped below the trees in the distance and darkness was creeping in around everyone still hanging outside, which was just about everyone since the weather tonight couldn’t be more perfect. Besides the spotlights pointing toward the rollback where the band had set up, the only other light came from the fires in the fifty-five-gallon barrels scattered around the courtyard.
Sitting on the ground with his back against The Barn’s wall, he had one wrist rested on a bent knee, held a cup in one hand and a hand-rolled cigarette in the other, while he surveyed the scene.
This was the fucking life. He had a full belly, an endless supply of beer and liquor, a solid roof over his head, a dry place to sleep, a brotherhood who had his back, a way to put scratch in his pocket, and soon, a new-to-him Harley.
Better yet, no screws tracking his every move, no uncomfortable bunk beds with a paper thin, filthy mattress, questionably stained and ripped sheets, no one watching him when he took a fucking shit, no one listening to him when he jerked off, and no unwashed, bat-shit crazy cell mates. And for the most part, he didn’t have to have eyes in the back of his head.
Only one thing would make his life better. Removing the threat hanging over his goddamn head because of one stubborn-assed, but irresistible, woman.
He took another long drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke out of his nostrils.
Normally, when around others, he and Tessa were civil like normal, but for the most part, they tried to ignore each other. Even so, no matter where she was in the room, in The Barn or even the courtyard, without trying to be too obvious, he kept his eye on her.
Not because he worried about Bones, Dozer, Woody, Castle or even Dutch hitting on her—apparently, they weren’t as stupid as Easy to get mixed up with the president’s fucking sister—but because he couldn’t not keep an eye on her.
It was an instinct he couldn’t shake. A possessiveness that only got stronger every fucking day. His urge to claim her as his own got more powerful every night she snuck into his bed.
Of fucking course that was why his ass was still planted where it was currently.
Where he sat he had a clear view of Tessa under the pavilion, drinking and chatting with Saylor, Reilly, Josie and Maddie. Her “girl crew.” The women she went out partying with, maybe even searching for dick. Well, except for Lee now that she wore Rev’s patch. Her ol’ man might have a few choice things to say if she went as more than a “wing woman.”
Tonight, Tess didn’t have Dyna with her like she normally did. After a quick scan of the courtyard, Easy spotted where the sisterhood had gathered with the younger kids, like Red’s three half-siblings, plus Dane and Rush.
He knew Dyna wasn’t with Jemma or Cage since just a few minutes earlier, Dutch had wandered past him with his granddaughter on his shoulders wearing a shirt that read:
You better not mess with me
Otherwise my pap-pap’s coming after you
And he’s bringing the Fury along with him