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)
When the Russos decided to take out the Demons after that club stabbed them in the back, they blew shit up. The DAMC didn’t have access to any kind of explosives and trying to get some might trigger some red flags when it came to the feds.
Zeke didn’t want any more attention on them than necessary. In fact, he preferred if his club always cruised under the radar.
They’d be under the microscope enough with their medical marijuana dispensary application. A dispensary could make the club a lot of scratch and he didn’t want anything fucking with that.
When his gaze swept the parking lot, he was relieved to see that Kyra had taken Ledger inside like he’d asked.
“Vi!” When his cousin looked over, he followed up with, “Need you and your boy in this meetin’ too.”
She glared at him. “My boy?”
Reaper squeezed her shoulder, dipped his head, and said something only she could hear. A second later, she nodded and they both headed toward the back door of the building.
Damn. He’d never known Vi to be agreeable with any fucking man other than her father. And most of the time she ignored the big man, too.
Only, now was not the time to break that shit down.
“Let’s go,” he ordered Zane, Rage, and Chaos. Hopefully, Wheels and Cruz were already inside waiting.
On his way to the meeting room that sat to the right of the club’s private bar, he couldn’t find Kyra and Ledger. Since Phoenix was the closest to him, Zeke asked where they were.
Nix responded with, “She took him into the kitchen to get some real food in his gut. The kid was hoppin’ ‘round like a bunny on crack.”
Good. That would keep them occupied while he discussed the shit that went down with the rest of the officers.
Wheels and Cruz already sat in their spots at the long table when the rest of them filed through the door.
“Someone grab two more chairs,” he ordered.
Chaos immediately turned around and headed back out. He returned a minute later and placed the extra chairs at the end nearest the door.
Zeke settled at the opposite end of the table as everyone else took a seat.
Where to fucking start?
He had gone over everything Russo had said over and over in his mind on that long ride back to Shadow Valley, but he hadn’t come up with any answers.
This was the Mafia they were going to have to deal with, not the fucking Cub Scouts.
For a few seconds, he regretted being the goddamn president. Everything fell on his shoulders and at the moment, the weight of it all was about to take him to his knees. Now he wasn’t only responsible for this club. Having his woman back in his life, in addition to his son, made him more vulnerable.
He wasn’t liking any of this shit one fucking bit.
But this really hammered home the reason his father built the DAMC compound. It was meant to help keep the women and kids safe.
Unless they could expand the club’s retirement village—and that would cost a fucking fortune—his generation might have to create something similar by using the Dougherty farm.
Plus, he knew most of his generation didn’t want to live in the established compound. While the majority grew up in it, unlike the OGs, none planned on living in it until they fucking died.
Down and dirty ’til dead was never supposed to mean living a comfortable middle class life in a gated community while driving around on fucking scooters and in golf carts.
Fuck that shit.
Their motto meant they were supposed to live hard, party hard, and take care of “business” using whatever means necessary. Whether that method was legal or not.
But Zeke’s instinct to protect his family had kicked in and he now understood why his father had done what he did.
His gaze slid down to Vi and Reaper at the other end of the table. He explained, “Didn’t wanna repeat this shit twice.” Once would be enough to infuriate him all over again.
“Totally understandable, cuz,” Vi responded. “I’m glad you’re pulling us in on this so we’re prepared.”
While Reaper said nothing, his stony expression said everything.
And right then and there, Zeke realized that fucker wasn’t afraid of shit. If someone needed to be put six feet under, the man would dig the damn hole and not think twice about it.
If the guy proved himself to be an asset to the club, Zeke would seriously consider patching him in without being a prospect first.
“Whose warehouse was that?” Vi asked. “Who took Ledger?”
“Remember those Sicilian fucks that ‘run’ Pittsburgh?”
Next to him, Rage’s spine snapped straight.
“Holy fuck,” Wheels whispered. “Are you talkin’ about those Mafia motherfuckers? La Caca somethin’?”
“La Cosa Nostra.” Disbelief filled Vi’s face, though she tried to hide it, then her expression quickly changed to one that clearly agreed with Zeke that they were fucked.