Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 117379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Either way, I knew I’d just broken her a little more.
Like so much that’d happened tonight, I didn’t know what to think of that.
An hour later I was still wide awake.
I don’t know what I was smoking, thinking I’d fall asleep with Em in my arms. She dropped off pretty quick, which kind of surprised me. I mean, I knew she was safe with me—at least physically—but she didn’t.
She’d refused to take off her clothes, but I still felt every inch of that beautiful body up against mine and it was fantastic. Of course I knew guys with old ladies, and they seemed to enjoy being around them. I’d never understood it, but if it was anything like this, maybe it wasn’t so crazy.
I decided to play a little game. I’d lie in the dark, holding her, and pretend she was my old lady for a while. Pretend we lived in a world where I could have something as beautiful as her. That I didn’t owe the Jacks everything, or that she wasn’t a Reaper.
Then I caught myself, because what the fuck?
Christ, I didn’t want an old lady—or at least one like Em, who could think for herself. I’d signed on for someone who’d do what she was told and be thankful for it. That’d been the plan, and now it was blown to shit. If I was gonna pretend, a better fantasy would be rolling her over and screwing her brains out. Nice … Imagining myself inside her was fun for a while, but then my cock started getting pretty pissed off that we weren’t screwing her brains out for real. Considering I’d only brought a couple changes of clothing with me and I’d already soaked one pair of pants, seemed like a good idea to get some space.
I managed to get out of bed without waking her and headed downstairs to find Skid in the living room, playing Halo. An energy drink sat next to him, right next to a dusting of white powder. Guess I wasn’t the only one pulling an all-nighter.
He set down the controller and raised a brow.
“So, what kind of game you playing, bro?” he asked me. “Because something feels off to me. This bitch is your means to an end. That’s it, right?”
“I’m aware,” I said, my tone dry. “Believe me.”
“Just don’t forget whose team we’re playing for. I heard from Kelsey. Grass is stable. She says it’s not as bad as they thought when he first came in.”
“No word on Clutch?”
“Nope,” he answered.
“Em says Toke’s gone rogue. Reapers have lost control of him. If it’s the truth, we’re fucked.”
“Think she’s messin’ with you?”
I considered the question.
“I think there’s a good chance he’s off the reservation,” I replied. “None of this makes sense. We’ve got a truce, the Reapers voted on it. Shit with Gracie happened a long time ago—if this was a club hit, I don’t think they’d have bothered talking truce in the first place. Retribution’s worthless if you don’t claim it.”
“Asshole couldn’t have fucked Burke over better if we’d planned it out with him,” Skid said, sighing. “We don’t shut this down, it could take him out. All of us fucked then.”
I didn’t bother responding, because it was the simple truth. We had one shot at revolution in the club. Mason had already given Burke the heads-up—his cancer was spreading. The national president of the Devil’s Jacks MC was on his way out. He wouldn’t be able to hide it much longer, which meant Burke had to make his move soon or it was all over.
This was our chance to take the Devil’s Jacks back, make the club back into what it’d been created to be. A brotherhood of riders. Not a bunch of cheap thugs looking to line their own pockets. We’d hoped for more time to consolidate our position, but if the truce held, we’d have the votes we needed. The charters down south were desperate for help keeping out the cartel—help we couldn’t give them if we had to fight a two-front war with the Reapers.
“Hey, bro?” Skid asked.
“What?”
“Call me crazy, but I’m pretty sure even if we manage to pull some kind of peace out of the fire, you won’t get to keep your pretty toy upstairs.”
“Yeah,” I muttered, letting myself fall back into a chair. I scratched my stomach and eyed his can of Monster. I needed some of that shit. “It’s fucked.”
Silence fell between us.
“That’s all you have to say for yourself?” he asked. “ ‘It’s fucked’? Where’s the big plan? You’re the one always thinkin’ things through, telling us we need a strategy.”
“The plan isn’t coming together this time,” I said. “Do you still think we can pull it off?”
“Pull off what? Surviving tomorrow? I give us sixty-forty. Feelin’ optimistic.”
I laughed, because he was probably right. I’d get Em through it, though. No way that pretty girl was gettin’ caught in the crossfire. I wasn’t quite sure why I felt so strongly about keeping her safe, but I did.