Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 93698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“Took his cut and kicked him the fuck out.”
Zak’s brow furrowed. “Why?”
“Caught him doin’ blow on the pool table.” Zeke jerked his chin toward the abandoned cut.
Zak frowned. “He knows the fuckin’ rules.”
No shit. “Whatcha doin’ here?” Zeke asked as his old man approached.
Zak’s step stuttered and his eyebrows dropped low. “Last I checked, I’m a fuckin’ member.” He pointed to the patches on the front of his cut. Of course, the president patch had been removed a few years ago after he stepped down. “What the fuck you doin’ here? Why ain’t you workin’?”
“Same reason you never did.”
Zak’s brow shot the opposite way, causing his eyebrows to be stuck to his hairline. “Helped your mother run the bakery.”
“Never saw you bake a goddamn thing.”
Zak stopped in front of him. “Don’t gotta bake to manage a fuckin’ bakery.”
Zeke let it drop since it wasn’t worth the argument. Growing up, he remembered his father coming and going from Sophie’s Sweet Treats and not doing a damn thing but stuffing cupcakes down his gullet.
And making out with his mother.
Sometimes they still did.
Zeke had no doubt that if dying from a broken heart was real and his mother Sophie went first, Zak would follow the same path as Ace did.
Not that he wished the demise of his parents. He didn’t. He might butt heads with his old man on occasion, but he still wanted them to stick around for a long damn time.
Especially now they had their first grandchild.
Who Zak might meet sooner than either Zeke or Ky expected.
She was not going to be happy. It wasn’t a good idea having her come to the clubhouse. But unless he could get his father out of there soon, it might be too damn late.
He called his father by the man’s nickname, even though it bugged the shit out of him when he did. “What d’ya need, Z?”
Zak ground a hand against the back of his neck. “Apparently a fuckin’ reason to be here.”
“Just figured I’d help you find whatever it is.”
“Then find me a fuckin’ beer.” He continued on to the bar. “Larry workin’ in the kitchen?”
“Yeah.”
“Guess I need breakfast, too.”
“Where’s Mom?”
“Helpin’ out at the bakery today. Two of the girls called in sick.” He pushed open the swinging door and yelled, “Hey, Larry, gonna need some hash browns, bacon and a coupla eggs. Scrambled with cheese.”
Zeke heard the cook call out, “Don’t want pancakes?”
“Why the fuck would I want pancakes?” He let the door swing shut and headed to the other side of the bar to grab a mug and some coffee from the commercial coffeemaker in the corner.
Wanting a beer must have been bullshit.
But, for fuck’s sake, this was not good. His father was settling in. Maybe Zeke should head Kyra off outside. Offer to take them to the diner again instead.
Except the only scratch in his possession was what he’d just swiped from The Iron Horse. Larry made the best fucking pancakes and those wouldn’t cost him shit.
His old man was going to choke on those hash browns if he spotted Ledger.
Of course, that was when the back door opened, the morning sun backlighting the newest arrivals so they weren’t immediately recognizable.
But Zeke knew who they were. Then once the door shut, the dark figures disappeared and mother and son appeared. Very clearly.
Zeke’s heart began to pound and his chest tightened as his father looked up from taking a sip of his coffee.
Zeke didn’t know who to look at first. His father, his kid, or his former ol’ lady.
Ky’s tits and hips won out, but only for a few seconds.
Until the bottom of the ceramic coffee mug smacked the bar top and he heard a mumbled, “Holy fuck.” His old man’s eyes turned to Zeke and he repeated, “Holy fuck.”
Kyra froze only feet inside the door, gripping Ledger’s hand. “I…um…” She bugged her eyes out at Zeke.
He tried to relay without words that this hadn’t been the plan, but Kyra’s gaze was now focused on Zak as he took long, stiff strides to where they stood.
Zeke quickly followed on his father’s heels.
When Zak got to them, he glanced over his shoulder. “Got somethin’ to tell me?”
Zeke scratched behind his ear. He had a lot of shit to say, but it needed to wait for a better time. Not while Kyra and Ledger were standing in front of them.
If looks could kill, Zeke would be dead. Two times over. Once by his son’s mother and once by his son’s grandfather.
Fuuuuuuck.
“Nothin’?” Zak asked with a cocked eyebrow.
“Z, you remember Kyra.”
“Yeah. Her I remember. It’s the little guy I don’t.” Not waiting for a response, Zak squatted down in front of Ledger. “Got a name, kiddo?”
Ledger’s eyes were glued to Zak. In a proud and loud voice, he announced, “Ledger.”
“Howya doin’, Ledger? I’m your Gr—” Zak’s chin jerked into his neck and he suddenly looked like he was about to puke.