Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 94313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
I clenched my jaw as they spoke, thinking it couldn’t be the same church that Esther belonged to. It was too fucking coincidental.
“I’ve had a couple of run-ins with them,” Brody said, shaking his head. “Pompous fucks. The guys I met would shit their pants and look you straight in the eye and tell you God told them to do it.” He laughed. “They’d believe it, too. Drinking the motherfuckin’ Kool-Aid around there.”
“I haven’t met any of ’em,” Mick said. “Except for the ones we’d see around school.” He looked at Rumi. “What was that kid’s name? Brown hair. Tall and skinny. Eric?”
“Nah, that wasn’t it,” Rumi said. “Somethin’ biblical. They’re all named after somethin’ biblical.”
“Ephraim?” I asked, my throat tight.
“That’s it,” Rumi replied, pointing at me. “It was Ephraim.”
Fuck. Me.
“That kid seemed alright,” Mick mused. “Quiet though. Like he couldn’t be bothered to make any friends or interact with anyone outside their little church group.”
“Their parents ruled with an iron fist,” Rumi added. “Remember that time we saw his pop reach back in their car and slug him in the face?”
My guts twisted.
“Not easy to forget,” Mick replied dryly. “Never really saw his mom, though.”
“Not surprising. The girls at school practically faded into the paint on the walls. Mousy as shit. I doubt they’re allowed to have an opinion on anythin’.”
I almost said something, then. Mousy, my ass. Esther wasn’t mousy. Esther was fucking gorgeous and she didn’t need all the make up and shit that most girls wore.
“Call themselves the Sons of Calgary,” Rumi said, snapping his fingers happily. “Calgary Church down by the highway.”
“I’ll take it back to Dragon,” my dad said, cutting off their conversation. “Could be either group, but I think we’ve got somethin’ here. Good call realizin’ that they wouldn’t be able to sell shit without us knowin’.” His lips twitched. “My pops said the same thing about an hour and a half ago.”
Rumi sputtered. “You tellin’ us that we just spent an hour spitballin’ and came up with shit you’d already realized?”
Dad laughed. “Hey, I didn’t know you knew any of ’em from school,” he said jokingly. “And we hadn’t narrowed it down yet.”
“You’re welcome,” Rumi grumbled.
“Get back to work,” Dad ordered. “Still got rigs to fix and a business to run.”
Slowly but surely, the crowd thinned as everyone migrated out of the clubhouse and back to the garage. I was working on changing the radiator of an old Ford pickup when Rumi came up behind me, jabbing me in the side with his thumb.
“Knock it off, asshole,” I barked, jerking sideways, my hands covered in grease. “What the fuck do you want?”
“Mom wants all of us at their place for dinner,” he informed me importantly. “Right after work.”
“Mom wants me to come over, she can call me herself,” I replied, turning back to the truck.
“She asked me to tell you and Micky, twerp.”
“Fine.”
He didn’t speak for a minute, but I could feel him behind me. Watching me. It made the spot between my shoulder blades itch.
“You got somethin’ on your mind?” he asked finally, all joking gone from his voice.
“No, why?”
“You got awfully quiet inside.”
“Didn’t have anythin’ to add.”
“A little pale, too.”
“I’m not fuckin’ pale.”
“You know those kids from the church?”
“Went to school with them, just like you and Mick and Brody,” I replied, forcing myself to keep my hands busy.
“You’re sure that’s all?”
“What are you askin’?” I turned to look at him.
“I’m not sure,” he said slowly, his eyes on my face.
“Well, when you figure it out, let me know.” I turned away again. “And tell Mom that I’ll be there when you talk to her again in ten minutes.”
“I don’t talk to her that much,” he argued as he walked away.
“Fuckin’ mama’s boy,” I muttered.
“I heard that,” he called back. “And I’m tellin’ Mom you said it.”
“Like it’s somethin’ she doesn’t already know!”
The rest of the day passed by quickly and I was able to finish up the truck by the end of the day. After letting the office know that the owner could come pick it up, I cleaned my hands as best I could and headed out to my bike. I would’ve rather gone home so I could spend some time alone figuring out the clusterfuck I seemed to have stepped right into.
The fact that I’d slept with Esther wouldn’t mean anything to the club. They couldn’t give less shits about where we dipped our wicks—as my dad would say—but the fact that I was looking for her and that I’d stopped by their fucking nursery that morning would definitely be questioned. My best bet would be to let it go and steer clear until we’d figured out who had taken our shipment of guns—but I wasn’t sure I could do that.
Not knowing if there had been any fallout to Esther and I hooking up was like an itch I couldn’t scratch. Even the thought of ignoring it made me feel like ants were crawling under my skin. Maybe she’d just blown me off… but Esther didn’t seem like the type to say she’d meet you and then not show—unless there was a reason. I had to know she was okay. Once I did that, I’d let my dad know that I had a connection to her. No need to drag her into the middle of shit unless I had to.