Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114819 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114819 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
“You’re bein’ dramatic,” Dev said, looking over at him as he opened the refrigerator door. “Had I not texted Keyes, you wouldn’t know it was me.”
“How did you text without your phone?”
“I have an old iPhone. The very first model ever made. It’s somehow still linked to my cell number. I don’t know how but it allows me to send and receive text messages. Sometimes when I power it up, all my text messages pop in, but what I send from that phone doesn’t ever come to my current cell phone. Make sense?”
Cash ignored Dev’s question, knowing he had a limited window of honesty before Dev shut down again. “How did the local news get the story on the DA?”
“All me. I did that.” Dev nodded and dropped his head low into the refrigerator. “I’m tired of that bitch DA gettin’ by with bein’ such a fucker,” Dev explained. He came back up with his hands full of eggs, bacon, and the tofu scramble, then kicked the refrigerator door closed.
“Why tonight? What’s the reason for your timing?” he finally asked.
The weight of defeat had Cash’s shoulders slumping. Dev was a constant challenge. One upping him over and over. He was afraid he was never going to be able to outpace Dev.
And he was exhausted. Physically and emotionally struggling to think properly.
“Honestly? The weather. But I planned for all this to happen pretty quickly. Here’s the truth. I need to keep the club occupied. Get their minds focused in a direction,” Dev said, placing the load of groceries on the countertop. Dev turned back to Cash, his ass hit the edge of the counter, his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re takin’ my safety too far. You’re comin’ on too strong. Once my old man gets that you’re not gonna fuck him, he’s gonna get suspicious about why you’re hangin’ around so much.”
“What?” Cash asked. He’d only done what he had to do.
“Somewhere, somebody’s gonna see us. Some person I don’t know about is bein’ paid to watch out for the club. They’re gonna know somethin’ about you and put suspicion into my old man’s head. If not that, eventually my old man’s gonna figure it out. Shit’s goin’ too smooth for the club. If you’re gonna keep goin’ everywhere with me, I need to create some lingerin’ chaos for him to have to deal with. Cummings’s death was a several day plan by the majority of the club. Everybody was occupied and eager, tryin’ to figure out their part. Now that bitch DA will be on the defensive by mornin’. She’s not goin’ down alone. My old man’s gonna be knee deep in her shit for a while.”
Cash nodded. Dev wasn’t wrong. He saw the logic. “All right. That all seems reasonable enough. Why did you have to go behind my back? I’ve been nothing but honest and supportive with you, and you promised no more lies. We’re supposed to be a team.”
Dev rolled his eyes and turned away, reaching for a skillet. “What’s that dream you been havin’, secret agent man?”
“That has nothing to do with this case,” Cash defended, except Dev’s recurring violent death may be exactly what his biker had working against him.
“Okay then. All you do is say no to me. I live by your timeline, your decisions, your reactions. Not that I ever played team sports, but that shit doesn’t sound very team oriented. I’m not a lap dog, and you’re becomin’ a dictator.” Dev had to be the noisiest chef on the planet. Everything he did required a slam, shove, or drop as he manhandled the bacon package.
“When have I said no?” Cash asked defensively. “When have I ever been anything but agreeable with you?”
“In the last twenty-four hours? That delicious lookin’ bagel with the cream cheese and jelly I wanted to stop and get yesterday mornin’.” Raw bacon hit the skillet, slice after slice. Dev used the tips of his fingers on the hot pan to adjust the bacon’s position. “The hot-as-fuck tattoo I offered to ink over your scar—”
Cash stopped Dev from continuing his ridiculous list. Dev was so random it was shocking he ever got anything done. “You wanted me to permanently ink your name in small letters up and down my scar.”
Dev cast a quick look over his shoulder, a strip of bacon dangling between his fingers. “It was a bad ass design that I custom created for you and wasn’t gonna charge you or the government for. Thousands of dollars all on me. Then I wanted to run across the street to check the price of a new skull saddle bag. Mine are old as fuck and barely stay on. I wanted you to go with me and you said no.” Dev lifted his other hand, showing three fingers, meaning three different times Cash had said no.