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)
I didn't trust the calm.
I guess I got that from Roan, who I remembered spending a good chunk of his time in the glass room on the roof, looking for trouble because he could just feel it coming.
It was something in the air, a frazzled, electric sizzling sensation up and down my arms.
Something was coming.
I wanted to have my wits about me if it happened to show up while we were out on the town.
"You coming?" Finn asked, holding the door open for me.
"Yeah," I agreed, falling into step with him.
"You're distracted."
"Got a lot on my mind."
"Oh, right. Your spidey senses," Finn teased, shooting me a smirk. "You know what would help them? Alcohol," he said, slapping a hand hard enough on my shoulder that he made me stumble forward. The smart asshole rushed forward before I could retaliate, though.
I don't know if it was just part of growing up, or his proximity to Dezi, but Finn had turned into a shit-starter lately. He and Seth came to blows a few times a month over stupid shit. I'd needed to drag him off of one of the Mallick kids a couple months back.
I always figured he had a bone to pick with me because we knew Dad was grooming me to take over the club one day. But time was proving that he just liked to start shit, get under people's skin, and throw hands if it came to that.
He was far from the quiet, standoffish, soft teenager he'd once been.
Which I guess was good for the club.
As much as it was a pain in the ass to keep track and control over men like Dezi, they also tended to be the best assets under pressure. Which was my hope for Finn. All the fucking around was going to help mold and harden him into the kind of brother the rest of us could really count on.
"Not walking?" I asked as Brooks climbed on his bike beside mine.
Where Finn and Dezi were becoming the crazy in our group, Brooks worked as the balance. Calm, responsible, maybe a bit too serious for his own good, he could always be counted on in different ways. He was meticulous, making sure rules were followed and evidence was cleaned up properly, always keeping his cool when the rest of us ran hot.
"I'm not drinking," he said. "I have the morning guard shift," he reminded me.
"Morning is a lot of hours away," I said, shrugging.
"Still," he said, shaking his head.
"Hey, Brooks," I called as he reached for his helmet.
"Yeah?"
"You're in," I told him. "You don't need to keep proving yourself. You're in."
To that, he made some sort of noncommittal noise, started his bike, and pulled off.
I'd known Brooks longer than I'd known the other newer guys, yet I found him harder to get a read on, even after all this time.
On that thought, though, I got on my bike and followed my men to the bar, trying to remind myself that even if I had a gut feeling about something coming, it was alright to unwind a little bit, stop scanning the room, stop inspecting the people who moved in whenever the doors opened.
"Boss Man," Dezi said, slinging an arm around my shoulder, sloshing some of his bottle of whiskey down my cut. "Lots of ladies here tonight. And you're scoping out the dudes. I've walked in on you ramming a woman from behind, so I know you like pussy," he said, making me squeeze my eyes shut to keep calm.
"You walked in on me because you have no fucking manners. You're like a feral dog, going wherever you want to without being invited."
"Oh, but who wouldn't want me around?" Dezi asked, pressing a hand to his heart.
"Me, when I am fucking someone," I reminded him.
"Aw, man, I wasn't doing anything wrong."
"You threw fucking popcorn," I reminded him, still not entirely sure where the popcorn had come from. Unless he'd roped Malc's woman into making him caramel-covered batches or some shit.
"Well, I have my faults," he said, grinning as he released my shoulders, taking a step closer to the bar, leaning forward past Cary who was standing there to look at the woman sitting next to him. "Hey, pretty lady, have you met my friend Cary here?" he asked, jerking his head toward Cary.
And, hey, you had to respect a man who acted as a wingman without even being asked.
"Oh, ah, sorry," the woman said, shrugging. "I don't have daddy issues," she said, grabbing her drink and moving away from a man who, admittedly, could be her father.
"Hey," the woman on the next seat over called, drawing their attention as she patted the abandoned stool. "You're looking for me. Come sit down and tell me what a good girl I am, and how proud you are of my accomplishments," she said, shooting Cary a wicked grin before she took a swig from her beer bottle.