Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 132031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
“I fucked everybody without a condom. My number of offspring should be much higher,” he teased.
“What the fuck, Devilman?” Keyes feigned anger, or maybe not faking it. It was hard to tell with Keyes. His buddy’s attention had shifted to the table where their lunch sat. “Chips at the bottom of the fuckin’ bag again? How many times do I have to tell you—”
“Apparently, one more.” The perfect comic relief to help Dev let go of his annoyance. “Cal says hi and happy belated birthday.”
“Mmm,” Keyes growled.
Cal personally built the subs they’d shared for years now. He’d also fed Keyes many times when he ran these streets alone. “You ain’t payin’ for the grub. You’re supposed to be grateful, ingrate.”
Dev got another grunted, “Mmm.”
“My mom said Smoke’s at his end and you went over there,” Dev said, taking the seat on the other side of the picnic table. Keyes followed suit, but the table didn’t fit their big frames as well as it used to.
“He can barely breathe. How hasn’t he died?” Keyes muttered. “Those fuckin’ prospects he recruited need to go. I’ll never vote ’em in.”
Dev grabbed the bag of food and dumped the contents between them. Keyes stopped a can of soda from rolling off the edge of the table. He couldn’t have agreed more about the Disciples newest prospect pool. There were about fifteen of them who needed to be cut if for nothing more than they had no respect for anything or anybody.
“Agreed. Their days are numbered. We need to bring up the motion next time church is called. Just be done with them all.” He lifted his gaze, judging how torn up Keyes might be after seeing his old man. There wasn’t any emotion reflected in his friend’s face. Only the low rumble of Keyes’s stomach, apparently appreciating the sight of the food. “Mom said the tire shop was turnin’ a nice profit again.” Keyes took over the tire shop a couple of years ago when his old man first fell ill, and it had been steadily improving…until that fucking raid stalled progress.
“Yeah. I’ve already started quotin’ prices on holiday tires. I figure we’ll make up the ground we lost durin’ the raid. I reupped my advertisin’ on those in-store shoppin’ carts. They work crazy well. Figure people’ll shop for groceries in the stores again durin’ the holidays,” Keyes said, flipping the edge of the paper to unroll his sandwich. He used too much force, the garnishes continued to roll, making Keyes have to scoop up the sandwich. With it palmed in his hand, he took a huge bite, tearing a large chunk out of the hoagie as he placed a napkin on one thigh.
A napkin. In his lap. Dev raised his eyebrows.
His brother wasn’t hiding near as much as he thought he did. Civilized people and his mother at Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner made them put napkins in their laps.
“You got a haircut,” Dev mentioned. Repeatedly trimmed hair was not a typical dress-code habit of a Disciples of Havoc biker.
Dev started mentally ticking off all the little changes he’d noticed in Keyes. His normally scraggly beard was now cut and kept neat. He suspected a brush was pushed through it. His long hair wasn’t several different lengths now and may have some of those expertly cut layers in to make it look fuller.
Keyes wore a T-shirt and jeans, both looking like they were recently purchased brand new, not from the thrift store they sifted through regularly.
His brother didn’t make eye contact or acknowledge his words. Instead, he opened both bags of chips, eyeing each. He picked the bag with the least broken chips, tossing the other on the table with disinterest.
Dev found humor in the action and reached for the bag. At some point, he was going to have to start digging to see what his buddy was hiding. But like he had decided months ago, he let his suspicions be enough since Keyes seemed happier. More than anyone Dev knew, Keyes deserved happiness in whatever form it came. He’d tell Dev more when he needed to know.
“We have a run this evenin’. My old man asked if you were in?” Dev asked, taking a much smaller bite than Keyes.
Keyes swallowed the lump of food in his mouth and opened the can of soda that hadn’t made the roll down the table, taking a long drink to help wash the oversized bite down. “’Course. Normal time?”
“He didn’t tell me any different,” Dev said, his mouth full of food. He talked and chewed at the same time only because Keyes hated that shit. His buddy was super tidy, had an innate sense of cleanliness and manners that he was born with—not that they could figure out what side of the family those had passed down through—and was the gentlest of giants about ninety percent of the time.