Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 105803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
The truck drives off, and Boney looks horrified as a pungent pile of shit steams beneath the warm midday sun on his driveway.
“Goddamn it,” he screams.
Hands on hips, he looks around, wandering what to do. He’s got a prestigious list of guests arriving within the hour and we just dumped a giant stink bomb on the driveway.
That’s when he sees us. Sitting across the street on our Harleys, enjoying the show.
He storms over to us looking like he’s about to pop. “You sons of bitches. You think you will get away with this?”
“Think of it as a thank you present,” I say, my gaze red hot behind sunglasses.
“I’ll goddamn sue. I’ll fine you. I’ll fucking —"
“You’ll fucking what, try to run us out of town? Hasn’t worked so far, and the way you’re going, you’ll die trying.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Fucking yes, that’s a threat. Right out of the goddamn horse’s mouth.” I lean my forearms against the handlebars of my bike. “You need to get it into that thick skull of yours that if you fuck with us, we’re gonna fuck you back. Except, we’ll fuck you back repeatedly.”
He steps forward, his voice dangerously low as he barely contains his rage. “I haven’t even started to fuck with the Knights. Do you hear me?”
Grinning, I ignore the threat.
“Smell that, Boney?” I sit up straight and suck in a deep breath of manure stink. “That’s the sweet fucking smell of revenge. I’m sure your guests will enjoy it.”
“You’ll pay for this,” he seethes.
I scoff and start my bike. “Enjoy your tea party.”
While Boney loses his cool on the sidewalk, we roar off into the afternoon, leaving him and his pile of steaming shit behind us.
Obviously, this wasn’t the revenge I was chasing. It’s an inconvenience at the most. But it will have to do while we deal with the bigger fish in the pond. We can’t afford any more heat on us while the situation with the Psychos plays out, and while we hunt down the elusive Mr. Big.
But Boney’s retribution is coming.
Something far more painful.
And there will be nothing but ash left when we’re done.
“It wasn’t as satisfying as blowing his face off but getting under his skin sure as hell feels good,” Lars says as we walk up the ramp from the underground parking garage and into the clubhouse.
“He’ll keep,” I say.
Music drifts down from the bar, and when we pass Bear and Axe on the staircase, I stop them. “What’s going on in the bar?”
“Your girl has discovered a love for Wildfire,” Axe says with a grin.
“Right now they’re doing karaoke,” Bear adds.
“We don’t have a karaoke machine,” Lars says.
Bear grins. “Trust me, they don’t need it.”
Just as he says it, the sound of two drunk women singing out of key floats down the stairs.
Axe pats my shoulder. “She’s gorgeous, Prez. But she sounds like a howling cat when she sings.”
I should take offense to what he says, but he’s not wrong.
Leaving Bear and Axe, we head to the bar, where I find Belle and Annika doing shots and singing along to the jukebox. Seems their date into town was more successful than I anticipated, and they’re up to their eyeballs in Wildfire.
Which tells me something isn’t right.
Belle doesn’t usually drink. She admitted it herself.
So why is she hammered at one o’clock in the afternoon?
The moment she sees me, she throws her arms around me, and her tiny body slumps against mine, soft and supple.
She cranes her head to look up at me. Her eyes glazed. One of them half closed.
Yep, she’s toasted.
I notice the empty shot glasses on the bar behind Belle.
Five of them.
Jesus, no wonder she can barely stand.
“Want to tell me what’s got you drinking shots of Wildfire like it’s water?”
“We’re having a boozy brunch, and your girl is a lightweight,” Annika says. She’s not as drunk as Belle, but she’s on her way.
“Wanna tell me what happened in town?”
“Other than being denied entry into The Village Bakery, nothing much.”
“What do you mean you were denied entry?”
“Oh apparently that’s a thing now. A lot of stores have anti-biker stickers stuck to their windows. The bakery was one of them. When we tried to enter we were told to fuck off. Of course, I’m paraphrasing.”
This has Boney written all over it.
And it pisses me off.
But I know his influence over the town won’t last.
Not when I find the evidence I need to show the town how corrupt he really is.
“Is that how you got the bruise on your cheek?” I ask.
Knowing my cousin, she probably got into a fight over it.
“No, I got that when my boot heel got stuck in a cobblestone and I face planted into the sidewalk.” She holds up a broken fingernail. “I got this when I picked up the sign outside the butcher’s and threw it into the drain because he has three of the damn stickers stuck to his window. Blacklisting fuck.”