Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77394 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77394 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
I could feel it in my bones, so I turned to Creed and asked, “Any more talk about the Kings?”
“Not much,” he answered. “Just that they’re scrambling to keep things going. They’d burned a lot of bridges, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they disbanded altogether.”
“If only we could be so lucky,” Prez scoffed. “But assholes like them tend to repopulate like fucking rabbits. It’s best to keep an eye on them and make sure they don’t sneak up on us.”
“Agreed, and we should do the same for Delgado. Talk may be down, but he’s still out there, and he can’t be happy about losing such a large source of income.”
“Already on it,” Creed replied. “We have sources monitoring the situation, and if there’s a change of any kind, they’ll let us know.”
“Anything recent?”
“No, nothing new.” Creed gave me a look. “But if you’re feeling an itch, you could always pay a visit to Tyrone.”
“Awe, hell. What is it now?”
“He’s asking to push back the drop day again.”
“The one for tomorrow?”
“Yeah, he said there’s something going on with his guy, and he can’t get his hands on the goods until next week.”
“You think he’ll pull through?”
“Don’t have a reason to think he won’t.” Creed chuckled as he glanced over at Prez. “We’ve been working with him for years. We all know he’s a fuck-up, but he always managed to pull through. But lately, he’s been off his game, and it might be time to give him a little direction or cut him loose entirely.”
“Yeah, it’s not like we don’t have options.” Creed leaned back in his chair. “Gus mentioned that their chapter has a new supplier who’s got some really good shit. Said it was a game changer.”
“Who they buying from?”
“Some club out of Nashville. Pretty sure they’re growing it themselves.”
“Might be worth looking into, until then, you good with me going over and having a word with him?”
“Absolutely. Do your thing,” Prez answered. “Let us know how it goes.”
“You know I will.”
Tyrone wasn’t the issue. He had a guy who had a guy, and Tyrone was at their mercy. But that didn’t stop me from getting up and heading out of the room. I needed to dot all my i’s and cross all my t’s, and this was just a start.
I was on my way to my bike when I spotted Skid hunched over Creed’s Harley, and he appeared to be struggling. I walked over and asked, “What have you gotten into now?”
“Changing Creed’s oil, but he’s got a stripped bolt that’s refusing to give.” The muscles in his arms tensed with exertion, beads of sweat glistening on his brow as he complained, “Whoever did it last over torqued it.”
“You need a hand?”
“Nah, I got it.”
“You sure?”
“I said I got it, Dad,” he huffed. “I got it.”
It had been months since he’d called me dad, and while it was out of anger that he’d let it slip, it still meant something to me. He was my son, through and through, and while I wasn’t always that great at showing it, I loved him. Nothing I wouldn’t do for him—even if it meant giving up my role as his father while he prospected. He wanted to earn his patch on his own, and I got it. I would’ve felt the same if I was in his shoes, so I played along.
I continued to play along as I told him, “Spray some 40 on it and let it sit. It’ll help lubricate the threads.”
Skid looked up at me with a soured expression and disgruntled breath. He dropped the wrench and reached into his toolbox for the WD-40. When he started spraying, I turned and started for my bike. “A dab will do ya!”
“I said I’ve got it!”
“You do now.” I chuckled under my breath as I called out to him, “See ya when I see ya.”
“Where ya headed?”
“Got something I need to take care of.”
“Need a hand?”
“No.” Using his own words against him, I shouted, “I’ve got it.”
I kicked my leg over the seat of my Harley, and minutes later, I was whipping through the clubhouse gate. It was cold out—too cold to take my bike, but I didn’t fucking care. I needed some wind therapy to clear my mind. I had a million thoughts trampling through my head, and I just needed them all to stop—even if it was only momentarily.
My leather jacket and gloves did little to help with the bite of the cold night air, but it did as I’d hoped and got my mind off of things. As I drove further into the city, the surroundings quickly started to change. The buildings went from newly remodeled storefront to dilapidated shells that were marked with various gang graffiti.
It was a place where the line between right and wrong blurred. Crime was prevalent, and danger lurked in every dark corner. The air was thick with the scent of decay and utter desperation, and it became even thicker when I pulled up to Tyrone’s place.