Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77505 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77505 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
With that, they headed out in Detroit’s family car but it wasn’t long before I heard a rumble moving up toward the clubhouse.
Slash, as expected.
I was pretty sure I was the only one who remembered he wanted to talk to us in the morning about a job. But I didn’t mind being the messenger.
The president walked in, glancing at the purses and shoes lined up by the door, around the room, then at me. “Cleaned up the evidence, huh?” he asked, shooting me a smirk.
“Just don’t look in the freezer.”
“Panties?”
“Bras.”
He nodded, too experienced a leader to be fazed by any kind of absurdity. The club had a collection of abandoned bras and fishbowls of condoms.
“Everyone still out cold?”
“They were up late.”
“Not you?”
To that, I exhaled hard. “Think I’m getting old, man.”
“Yeah, join the club,” he agreed. “I got some shit to do with Nyx today. So I’m gonna let you tell the others about the job.”
“Sounds good.”
“It’s a bit of a haul for this one. Over in Fontana. There’s a club that reached out to place an order.”
“Club? Another MC?”
“Yeah. Fontana is rife with them. Part of the reason we’re out here in the middle of nowhere. We don’t need that headache. But that doesn’t mean we can’t do business with them. This is the order form,” he said, passing a slip of paper with the shorthand we had for different weapons. “Load up Raff’s car. Tomorrow at ten is the drop. You can’t bring Saint, though.”
“What about Syn?” I asked.
“If Saint doesn’t throw a fit about it, sure. Otherwise, maybe tap someone else. I definitely want three of you there.”
“We’re not meeting at the club, are we?”
“Fuck no. Neutral location.”
“Okay. Got it.”
“Good. Got any questions, you know where to find me. Was that Detroit I saw leaving here?”
“Yeah. Kids are sick so he’s cooking for us instead.”
“Starting to regret agreeing to go out with my crew today.”
“Eh, he’ll be cooking for church in a few days too.”
“True,” Slash agreed. “I want an update as soon as you finish the drop.”
“Will do. And if Raff and Syn want to head into L.A. for the night?”
“Fine by me if you don’t do anything stupid.”
“Slash, man, this is Raff and Syn we’re talking about here,” I said with a laugh.
“Fair. I’ll settle for not arrested.”
“Think we can manage that,” I agreed.
“Alright. I’m out. Hey, babe,” he said as he passed another girl stumbling into the common area.
She jerked back, likely taken by surprise by the scars on the man’s face. That was where he got his name, after all.
“I, uh, hi,” she called after him when the immediate guilt for her response kicked in.
“Bra is in the freezer, shoes and purses by the door,” I said to her when Slash left. “Coffee is fresh. And if you’re Madison, your friend caught a ride to town to get ready for work.”
“That’s… way too many words this early,” she said, eyes small thanks to the booze and the light streaming in from the windows.
“Coffee then,” I said.
“Sweet,” she agreed, melting onto one of the island stools.
“Ibuprofen?” I asked, grabbing the bottle out of the cabinet.
“You keep it in the kitchen?” she asked, holding a hand out.
“Hangovers are a pretty common thing around here.”
She shook two into her hand and left the bottle on the counter.
“I don’t remember you,” she told me as I passed her the coffee.
“Colter.”
“Colter… Colter… oh, the gift basket guy.”
I guess if you were going to have a reputation, that wasn’t a bad one to have. Especially when it came to women.
“That’s me.”
“I used that pillow spray last night,” she told me.
The pillow spray I’d bought Raff when he showed up after a few weeks on the road with a nasty head cold in the fall. It was supposed to help clear his sinuses.
“I didn’t have my allergy meds on me. It helped.”
“Glad to hear it. Is that… a chicken?” she asked when one of the hens started singing her egg song out in the backyard.
“Yep.”
“Bikers… who have chickens…”
“We contain multitudes,” I told her.
“Oof. That’s a big word for this small hour,” she grumbled into her coffee.
“Hey, anyone up to go to the diner, I’m—oh, hey, pretty lady,” Raff said as he came into the kitchen, shirtless, hair bed-messy.
“Diner sounds good,” the woman said, leaning in slightly when Raff planted a quick kiss on her temple.
“You game?” he asked.
“Sure,” I agreed. “But we gotta talk,” I said, holding the piece of paper from Slash between my two fingers.
“You wanna go borrow something to wear out of the upstairs hall closet?” he asked the girl, who made a mumbling sound, but took her coffee and walked off. “Job?” he asked when she was gone.
“Drop. Tomorrow night. Near L.A.”
“You and me?”
“Slash wants a third. But it can’t be Saint.”
“If it can’t be Saint, then it can’t be Syn, either.”