Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 61723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
“You break a table at Crystal’s last night?” he asks even though he knows the damn answer. Crystal is his old lady so I am sure that was part of the pillow talk last night.
I take another sip. “Already paid for it.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“Then yes.”
Saged snorts and pulls a chair out across from me. “Guy must’ve been stupid.”
“Drunk.”
“Same thing.” Dodge reaches for the coffee pot, pours himself a cup, and grimaces after the first sip. “Christ. Fresh make this?”
“Yeah before he went on his morning run.”
Saged shakes his head. “That man should be banned from kitchens and coffee pots.”
From the other room, Fresh yells, “I heard that! Mushroom coffee is better for the gut.”
Saged grins into his cup. “You didn’t say he was back already.”
The clubhouse kitchen is small but functional—scarred wooden table, mismatched chairs, cabinets that have been slammed shut more times than anyone could count. Sunlight creeps through the dusty window over the sink, cutting across the floor in pale stripes.
I slept about four hours. Which is four more than I expected after last night. Lucy Coe kept popping into my head every time I closed my eyes. Didn’t matter how many times I told myself it was nothing. Doesn’t matter that I barely know her.
My brain kept circling back.
Saged watches me over the rim of his mug.
“You look like hell.”
“Thanks.”
Dodge eyes me now too. “You thinking about the girl?”
I roll my eyes. “Jesus, is everyone in my business today? Fucking reading tarot cards, my palms, or are we calling a damn psychic?”
“No,” he says calmly. “You’re just obvious.”
Apparently that’s the theme of the week. “Guy grabbed her,” I share. “I handled it.”
“Uh-huh.”
“That’s it.” I double down.
Saged leans back in his chair, balancing it on two legs. “Woman local? I called Marlaina, she teaches her daughter. Not sure where she’s from though.”
“I think she’s trying to find footing here. New to town, I think she’s only been here a few months.”
“You think so.” Dodge challenges.
“I didn’t interrogate her, Dodge.” I take another drink of the liquid mud.
“You interrogate everyone.” Saged counters studying me more.
“Not last night.”
“Which is exactly my point.” I stare at him with his challenge thrown down. He grins. “You like her.”
“I met her for three minutes.”
“Seconds. That’s all it took for me with Crystal. Three minutes is a damn lifetime, brother,” Dodge states with a proud smirk.
“Not how that works.”
“Sure it is.”
I shove my chair back and stand before this conversation can get more annoying. “I’m heading into town.”
Saged raises an eyebrow. “For what?”
“Parts run.” That part is actually true.
The club needs a piece for a fork lift that broke yesterday at the ship yard, and the parts place in town opens early. But if I’m honest? There’s another reason.
Saged knows it. He doesn’t say it. Just smirks over his coffee as I grab my cut from the back of the chair.
“Don’t scare her,” he calls after me. I flip him off on my way out.
The ride into the center of Freedom Falls is short. Ten minutes if you take it slow. Five if you don’t.
Morning air off the Gulf carries that salty humidity Alabama does so well. The roads are already waking up—pickup trucks heading toward job sites, fishermen hauling boats toward the water, a few early joggers sweating their way through the heat that hasn’t fully arrived yet.
Freedom Falls isn’t big. One main strip. A couple side roads. Shops that have been here longer than I’ve been alive. Everyone knows everyone.
And everyone knows the Kings.
Some folks like that. Some don’t. Doesn’t change much.
I park outside the entry to Ironside Mercantile, dropping my kickstand and killing my engine.
Walking in, the community hardware and lumber store is like a step back in time. Well-worn floors, uneven shelves, and every part, tool, or accessory someone could think of tucked away somewhere here.
“Well look who decided to grace us with his presence.” Nitro teases me.
“Morning.” I greet.
“Morning,” he repeats, putting down the chainsaw in his hand.
Then he studies me. Uh oh. “You get in a fight last night?”
I flex my hand automatically. “How’d you know?”
“Your knuckles look like you punched a mailbox.”
“Not a mailbox.”
“Better story?” He smirks and raises his eyebrows wanting more.
“Drunk guy.”
Nitro nods slowly. “That tracks.” He tosses a rag onto the workbench.
“Girl involved?”
I groan. “Why does everyone assume that?”
I lets out a huff of frustration. “Come on brother. You know why. Everyone knows why. You got a temper and mean streak, but you don’t throw hands over spilled beer with a stranger.”
Fair point. I lean against the tool chest on the back wall. “He grabbed her.”
Nitro’s expression shifts. His eyes grow dark. Harder. “Where?”
“Black Rose.”
“That’s dumb.” And he is right. Everyone knows Crystal and Dodge are together even if they aren’t married. The Black Rose is one hundred percent her bar, her life, and not part of the club even if we make up the majority of her business. That bar was her granddad’s left to her and Dodge doesn’t dare step on her toes about her hustle.