Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Enemies, huh?
Chapter Seven
Danny
If you'd told me that I'd spend my evening digging a grave for the body of some unaffiliated neighborhood guy with Fallon after getting dropped off in the woods by the local cartel leader instead of going to the movies and seeing the new shitty horror movie like I'd planned, I would have laughed in your face.
But there was no denying that was my reality as the sweat dripped down my back and between my breasts, mixing with the dirt I'd kicked up over myself with the shovel Andres kept in his trunk, creating this awful gritty texture across my chest and in my bra as I kept shoveling.
When I took breaks, Fallon stepped in, doing his best to make some more progress to speed up the process, but he was only halfway useful thanks to his bum shoulder and knee that, while he made no comment about them, were clearly killing him.
"How many graves have you dug?" Fallon asked, tone casual as I took the shovel back from him to get moving again. We were getting close. People underestimated how deep six feet was. And how much work it took to dig it. We were hours into it already. My back and shoulders and arms were screaming. But we had to get it done and get it done right, or the animals would dig the body up, and we'd be dealing with a whole different mess.
"I don't know. Six," I guessed. "Something like that. This isn't so bad, though," I said, looking up at him from the inside of the grave. "If you've ever needed to dig a grave in hard clay soil with a shitton of rocks, you'd understand," I added. "Those were a nightmare. I couldn't lift my arms for days."
"Why were you the only one digging?"
"There were multiple graves that needed digging," I told him, shrugging. And despite having enough hands around to do the heavy lifting, I'd always felt the need to prove I was just as capable as they were. Or maybe even more so. "Is this your first?"
"Grave? Yeah. This wasn't your first kill."
He said it matter-of-factly. It wasn't a question. But I answered anyway. "No."
"You were quick."
"I've had a lot of practice," I told him.
"You didn't even hesitate."
"You hesitate, you die. I've seen that happen more than I care to remember. I don't take chances. I'd rather hide a body than be a body getting hidden."
"Rough upbringing, huh?"
I knew my usual instinct was to bristle, to say something snarky. But he was being halfway tolerable. And I was just too tired to put on that persona right then.
"Yes," I admitted, hearing a hint of vulnerability slip into my voice.
"You came out on top, though," Fallon said, voice softer than usual.
"It cost a lot," I told him. "But yes. Does this look close?" I asked, throwing my arms up in the air, figuring that was roughly six feet, give or take.
"It's close."
"Alright. A little bit more," I grumbled.
"Let me do some more."
"I'm faster," I said. "I'm not being a bitch," I added, looking up at him. "And I get you're trying to be all noble and shit, but you can barely lift the shovel. It's easier if I do it. Besides, I shot the fucker," I reminded him, throwing myself back into the work at hand.
"Do you have any ideas?" Fallon asked. When I looked up at him to shrug, he sighed. "I can't show back up at the clubhouse with no fucking ideas to go on."
"Yeah," I agreed, swiping my forehead with my arm. Sweat and dirt made a muddy mixture on my skin. "I know," I added.
It was strange to have someone I had something like that in common with. With MCs, once you got the go-ahead for your chapter, you were kind of on your own. There was no one around of your similar rank, no one who understood the trials and tribulations that came with leadership.
The saying was true.
It was lonely at the top.
Even if you had good friends, had advisors you relied on, there were always some things you didn't share with them. Things you couldn't share with them. Because if you told them about your uncertainties, your insecurities, if you admitted you didn't always have all the answers, they would lose trust in you. And trust was key. You lost that, you lost your men.
"They expect you to know more about a situation even though you only have the same information they do," Fallon added. "I almost feel bad for idolizing my old man. He was just a guy doing his best to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders."
"I like your father," I admitted.
"Yeah? Funny way to show it. Kidnapping him and all."
"Ugh. We've been through this," I snapped, leaning against the packed dirt wall of the grave. "He was just meant to be held for a few days. He wasn't supposed to be hurt. Why do you have to fuck up a semi-polite conversation by drudging up the past? Because in case you weren't aware, there isn't jack-shit I can do to change that now."