Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 631(@200wpm)___ 505(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 631(@200wpm)___ 505(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Holy fuck. She needed to keep her shit together and so did he. If they didn’t, it could all go sideways quickly.
The last thing he needed right now was to get into a brawl with the prospect. Doing so might out what him and Jet were doing… had done.
That shit was over. Tonight was a good reminder on why that had to be.
He never figured saving a pig’s ass would end up on his life’s to-do list.
“Hit your rack, Scar. Now. And I’m gonna smooth out the shit you just caused.”
Scar’s frown deepened into scary territory. “She fuckin’ caused it by comin’ here.”
“Remember you’re a goddamn prospect, brother. That’s it. If you can’t take orders, then pack your shit and get the fuck out. Tonight. And here I am, once again, havin’ to warn you not to make me regret sponsorin’ you.”
Scar’s head jerked up and his nostrils flared as his almost-black eyes hit Rook’s.
Rook wouldn’t want to meet the fucker in some dark alley. But right now, he had no choice but to go head-to-head with the man to diffuse the situation and, normally, Rook really sucked at diffusing shit. He usually leapt in feet first and figured out the rest later.
Another reason he’d spent a bit of time inside.
“Put her shit on the bar and go to your fuckin’ rack,” he growled, squaring off his shoulders.
Several thumping heartbeats later Scar finally moved, causing Cujo to break into a fresh chorus of yapping. It also allowed Rook to finally breathe again.
The prospect lumbered over to the bar, set down the taser and pulled the Glock from the back of his waistband to place it on the bar top, then slipped what looked like a cuff key from his boot. He unlocked the cuff, freed it from his belt loop and set the metal restraints with a clatter next to the taser and gun.
For a moment Scar stood there and stared at Jet’s stuff. A little too long for Rook’s liking. Then he heard a low, “Better not make me fuckin’ regret this, either.” The prospect’s body jolted sharply and then, with Cujo snapping at his heels, he strode toward the steel door separating church and the bunkhouse.
After it slammed shut, Rook’s gaze slid from the closed door back to Jet, who was getting to her feet and tucking her fallen hair back where it belonged.
“Think she’s lyin’? You didn’t break parole, did you?” E asked him quietly.
“Every goddamn day,” Rook answered distractedly as he watched her go over to the bar and put her weapons and cuffs back where they belonged on her duty belt.
Easy kept his voice low when he asked, “Why the fuck would she come by herself? She shoulda brought a damn army since she was comin’ into enemy territory.”
“She ain’t here to arrest anyone,” Rook assured him, hoping that was true. Though, Scar was probably on the top of her shit list after he manhandled her.
Shaking her head, Jet turned from the bar. “You know, I can hear you.”
“You here for Easy?” Rook asked her, knowing she wasn’t but wanting to ease his club brother’s mind.
“No.”
Without looking at him, Rook said, “Go, E. I got this. I’m used to dealin’ with her ass at the garage.”
“I’m out. That fuckin’ uniform ruins how smokin’ hot she is.”
Yeah, it did. There was nothing hot when it came to the uniform of their enemy.
Cujo pranced over with his tail up—and actually wagging—to the woman who should not be anywhere near the farm or The Barn. Jet squatted down and scooped up the dog, who decided to give her a few licks on her chin.
Easy made a sharp noise beside him.
For fuck’s sake, that fucking dog just might’ve given away their damn secret.
“Go,” he muttered to Easy. “Make sure that surly motherfucker stays back there. Trip will be pissed if we get on the local five-o’s bad side. He don’t want a repeat of how hated the Originals were in town or with the PD.”
Easy nodded. “Got it.”
“Thanks, brother.”
Easy nudged his shoulder. “You sure you okay out here on your own? I can check on the prospect and then come back out here if you need me.”
“Will text you if I do. Don’t think I will. I’ll get whatever info she came to share—long as she wasn’t usin’ that as an excuse to cover her nosy ass—and send her back out into the cold.”
He kept his eyes on Jet, but the air moved around him, and he heard Easy make himself scarce.
As soon as the door to the bunkhouse securely closed behind the younger brother, Rook beelined right to where Jet stood by the bar, holding his fucking dog. “What the fuck are you doin’ here? You can’t be here wearin’ that shit.”
Seeing her standing in The Barn, especially wearing her pig skin, was like seeing the devil walk into a real church. He expected lightning to strike her down at any moment.