Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 134654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
He was a class fucking act and I was jealous that he wasn’t my father.
But then again, I was glad he wasn’t mine. If he had been, Cleo never could be. —Arthur, age seventeen
I hid my smile as Cleo edged away from the exit and made her way to the empty chair.
Her features couldn’t hide the confusion or questions. She looked amazed and also slightly awed.
I hadn’t stopped to think how strange this would be for her. How lost she’d be in our long-term goals. How scrambled she’d feel when she finally learned the truth.
What she saw was still so small. She wasn’t ready yet to understand the big picture. Shit, I’d worked on this for four years and still had moments where doubt stuck a gun in my gut. We weren’t just taking on cartels or rivals. We weren’t just bloodthirsty and violent. We were working for the greater good—only nobody but us knew it yet.
The rule-makers—the stinking government—looked down upon us as lowlife scum on the fringes of society.
They had no idea what was coming.
I mean to change everything.
Once again, I’d dragged Cleo into my world without taking her feelings into consideration. She might not want the level of commitment and lofty aspirations shared by my men. She might not like the goal of reform we’d all been working toward. Shit, for all I knew, she might prefer the way things had always been done—just like the idiots who’d tried to steal my leadership the night Cleo came back to me.
All my worries could’ve been extinguished with a simple question. But once again, I’d barreled forward with no time to think.
I have to stop doing that.
She had to be first in my life—that was the way love was supposed to be—but in order to do that, I had to finish what I’d started.
We’d lived separate lives and now we needed to find common ground—to learn to coexist.
“It’s okay, Cleo. Sit. Stay.”
Her eyes flickered to mine.
Our entire childhood, we’d been taught that only full-fledged members were allowed in Church. No wives. No prospects. No children.
Yet here I was ripping up the fucking rule book and treating the meetings like family get-togethers where everyone had a voice. And I did mean everyone. Kids were allowed to join if they’d had an issue with school. Parents of members were welcomed if they needed a favor or loan.
We turned no one away and that was why we all fought together. Because we fought for each other first and foremost.
Fisting the gavel resting on the table, I rapped it once. “Matchsticks, you’re taking notes.” I looked over at the potbellied biker. Another thing I’d abolished was set duties. The only three positions were president, VP, and master at arms. I had no time for secretaries or treasurer. We worked better if we were all equal with the barest authority overseeing.
“Sure thing, Prez.” Matchsticks pulled the large binder that sat in the center of the table toward him and turned to a fresh page. His stubby fingers curled around a pencil, ready to begin.
I sighed. My head was a motherfucking pickax, but being here … putting things into action helped my temper and soothed the overwhelming helplessness I’d suffered sitting at home.
“Everyone know what happened the past few days?” I glanced around the table. The jokes and gossip halted, everyone ready for business.
“Yes. Details have all been shared,” Mo muttered.
The door suddenly swung open, spewing forth the female equivalent of my motorbike-riding soldiers. There was no hint of sequins or perfume. They were business. They were ruthless. They were Pure Corruption.
“Nice of you to join us, woman.” Dodge, an excellent mechanic with only nine fingers from a bad factory accident, eyed up Molly as she sashayed into the room. Molly had been with us from the beginning, running the many businesses our Club owned.
More females entered behind her.
They were soft and sexy—but there was an undeniable hardness about them. Something no amount of working in an office or climbing the corporate ladder could achieve. They’d seen evil. They’d married men on the fringes of society. And they helped run our empire with utmost loyalty.
They were also the perfect weapons in spying and covert operations. Secrets were rarely divulged when pried by a gun-slinging biker. But deliver a pretty smile and feminine charms … answers flowed like fucking candy.
“Nice to be here, husband.” Tossing her blonde curls, Molly held her head high as she made her way to the chairs ringing the edge of the room. “Did you miss me so much? Or was it because I left you passed out from that thing I did last night and went to work without saying goodbye?”
Men chuckled.
These women were different from ordinary gigglers or whores. These women had been rigorously questioned, chosen, and tested to become patched members as much as their men. And they provided invaluable feedback on certain missions and trades.