Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 104329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Even when he was too drunk to care, he still woke up. Still felt the pain. It never went away.
“I’m not talking about this shit with you. We were following orders. Smokey’s orders.”
“And what if the only way Smokey sees to help Ava is to … remove us?” He didn’t think Smokey was going to kill them, but sending them off to another club was as good as dead for most of them.
Lewis and Verge were presidents of different chapters of the Hell’s Bastards. Brick didn’t want to move. This was his home. This was his club. They were all one club, but he’d loyally served Smokey for a long time, and he didn’t want that to end.
They turned to see Smokey, Ava, and their little baby boy Umberto drive into the parking lot.
Smokey got out first, and then Ava. She looked over to them and gave them both a wave and a smile.
Brick held his hand up.
He always kept his distance from her, helping her to overcome whatever trauma she had to deal with. Smokey reached into the back of his car and pulled out his son. It was a sight to behold. The fearless president, holding the cutest bundle in his arms.
They were a happy family.
Brick would give his life for them all. He didn’t know how he was going to be able to handle Smokey turning his back on them.
****
Carlos sipped at his milkshake as he stared at the computer screens. So far, there was nothing out of the ordinary.
Ever since he had taken over from Garofalo, he’d installed cameras at each of their places of business. Each one built into their own network, which was how he was able to watch the comings and goings from each business.
There were the usual places, the casino, several inconspicuous shops, from fashion, through to shoes, and then of course grocery stores and bars. All legit places, and then, moving into the not so legit. Brothels, illegal gambling, fighting rings.
Keeping tabs on every single place was next to impossible, so he had to be sure to only deal with the hot spots. The places where he knew bad shit went down all the time.
No sign of Sebastian Drago. He couldn’t quite get a read on that guy. Sipping his milkshake, he changed the screen when a giant orgy spilled out at one of the brothels. Whenever that happened, it always meant big money.
Clicking on his keyboard, he brought up the underground gambling link. It was dark, so he couldn’t quite make out all of the players. Installing these cameras himself had been real fucking hard.
Since he’d taken over, any sense of privacy he had was long gone. Only when he came to Fort Clover was he really private, and then that was debatable. Smokey was always breathing down his neck. Untrustworthy bastard.
It wasn’t like he was going to cause trouble. He was here to keep an eye on shit and to not make any trouble. He was doing Smokey a favor.
The milkshake was gone, so he had no choice but to get to his feet and move toward the kitchen. As he got to the kitchen, which had already come upgraded with all the latest appliances, his front doorbell rang.
Reaching behind him, he grasped the handle of his gun and stepped toward the door. One look through the peephole, and sure enough, it was Smokey at his front door.
He should have known.
Arriving in town and not going to see the leader of the MC was a sign of disrespect. All Carlos wanted to do was lay low. Not cause any heat.
He opened the door, and Smokey attempted to shove it hard. They had this … battle each time they met each other.
Carlos was under no illusions about Smokey’s strength. The bastard was a strong fucker. So was he. He had a feeling they were equally matched, not that he’d ever admit it. Carlos didn’t want to ever find out who would win in a fight between them. It would never end well.
Even though Smokey was the Prez of the Hell’s Bastards MC, Carlos had a great deal of respect for him. There were several capos within his mafia that didn’t like doing business with MC. They felt it was bad taste.
The MC had a reputation within their world as being brutal thugs who didn’t follow any rules other than the ones they made.
They did, and Carlos respected them for it. Sometimes, you had to get down and dirty to get shit done.
“Smokey, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Cut the crap. What are you doing in town?” Smokey asked, stepping through the door.
He noted there was no one else. Interesting. Not unusual.
“I’m taking a mini vacation.”
“People take vacations at the beach.”
“I’m not a normal person.”
Smokey shook his head. “If you’re thinking of taking territory from me, any deal or agreement we have disappears. I will wipe your existence from the fucking world.”