Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 44321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Brute didn’t find it funny.
Sergey had a weakness and now that he knew what it was, there was no chance of him ever getting to Faith again.
“You’re here now, brother,” Igor said.
The brothers put a hand on Tank, so their club brother knew they were there. The doctor gave them all an annoyed look and Brute knew not to piss off their own doctor.
Stepping out of the room, the brothers headed toward the bar for much-needed drinks.
Brute knew he could do with something strong. Stepping away from the door, he made his way to the bar, where Shirley sat on a stool. She was giving him the eye. Shirley had been trying to bed him for months, but he wouldn’t have anything to do with the easy pussy.
He had nothing against easy pussy, but Shirley enjoyed working her way through the club brothers, and rumor had it she wasn’t always fussy about a condom. He wasn’t about to make it a habit of sleeping with a woman who could have multiple diseases.
“Hey, baby, it is a night for celebration,” Shirley said.
“It’s not.”
She tutted and picked up her drink, thrusting her tits out and stepping toward him. “We’ve all missed Tank, and now that he’s back, we should be throwing a party.”
Brute shoved her away. “Are you fucking insane?”
Shirley smiled at him. “I’m anything you need me to be.”
“Tank could die. He’s on that table with rotting flesh and shit torn off him. There is no way this is cause for celebration. Get the fuck away from me before I decide you’ve insulted me and the club and fucking end you.”
Brute didn’t make idle threats and she quickly rushed away, but he didn’t put her off from finding another target. He watched as she approached Hail and Vlad. Spinning toward the main bar, a bottle of good, strong whiskey had been placed in front of him. He didn’t even bother to pour it into a glass. There was no point. All he needed to do was swig from the bottle. He tipped the bottle back and took a nice, long gulp of the dark liquid.
It felt good to be drinking. After several long slugs of the drink, he felt the warmth but not the burn.
“What’s the plan?” Igor asked, coming to take the seat Shirley had vacated.
“The plan?”
“To fuck Sergey up? I know you were toying with the idea of using that girl.” Igor clicked his fingers and Brute waited. “Faith, that’s it. You were going to use her to get to him, but now that she’s gone, we’ve got to come up with another plan.”
“I have one.”
“Yeah?”
“We’re going to wait for Tank to be ready.”
“You want to wait?”
“I don’t think we should be taking out any kind of revenge until we have Tank by our side, ready to dish out his own certain brand of revenge, don’t you?”
Igor smiled. “You got that right.” He held his bottle out and Brute clinked his to Igor’s and took a long drink.
It was going to be a long night.
The brothers wanted to know when they were going to attack, if he had a plan, and if so, how long until they were able to execute it. The brothers wanted blood and he got it.
Sergey had gotten away with shit for far too long. This time, it wasn’t going to be acceptable just handing over a club brother. The Golubev Bratva was going to burn.
He took another long drink of whiskey and couldn’t help but think about her long brown hair. The depth of brown in her eyes. Brute had never considered himself having a type, but Faith, with her luscious body, was definitely his type.
He rubbed at his temple. She didn’t mean anything and he knew without a doubt the only reason he was thinking about her was because he didn’t get to feel the tightness of that pretty cunt wrapped around his dick. In life, you won some and you lost some.
Faith was a loss. She was free now and he was never going to see her again.
Chapter Seven
Two Weeks Later
Faith had never been a rebel in her life. She knew her mother had been irritated by her and often blamed her for how shitty her own life was, so she spent a great deal of time trying to be the good girl—a person her mother could be proud of. Sadly, though, it didn’t matter if she excelled in school or was a good girl, her mother always found reasons to complain. She was never happy, so Faith learned to just accept her position in life.
Which was why, two weeks later, her heart raced as she was able to sneak away from the guard who’d been assigned to watch her. It wasn’t hard. She was the bastard daughter, and no one cared what happened to her, other than Sergey, and perhaps her dad.