Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
“I think I just changed my fucking mind. So what's it gonna be, Ruin? Are you going to get the fuck off my property? Or do I get to fertilize the grass with your blood?”
“I want my fucking answers.”
“I already told you. I didn't run you off the damn road. I don't know what the fuck you're doing here or why the fuck you're bothering me. I've put the life behind me, and I'm respectable as fuck. Just trying to live my life in peace.”
“Bullshit.”
Even expecting it, his fist comes at me like his shoulder is a loaded spring.
Turning away, I manage to avoid the brunt of it, but there's still enough force when he clips my jaw that I’m seeing stars. All those aches from the crash flare up like fireworks. Jesus Christ, he's a fucking monster.
I push off the truck, forcing myself to ignore the pain radiating through my whole face. “That all you fucking got? Retirement's made you soft.”
“Motherfucker!”
“Aw, tell your mom I said hi.”
This time I'm ready. He throws too much of his weight into it, so when I step aside, he overcommits. I stop him with my knee in his gut and he drops like a fucking stone. I follow with a boot to his ass that rolls him clear over, but he’s on his feet in a flash. I jump back before he does the same to me.
“You really wanna do this? I've got nothing to tell ya, alright?” Grinder spits. “We can fight all fucking night, but don't mean I'm gonna suddenly become the man you're looking for. Go fuck off so I can go back to pretending you don't fucking exist.”
“Pretend all you fucking want. I know you and this whole reformed man thing is bullshit.” I pat the side of his truck.
“Who the fuck are you to talk? You’ve got shit on me? So what? I know where your skeletons are buried, too, and I’m not the only one. The Screaming Eagles might’ve killed off most of the Pit Vipers, but we’re still out there, and we fucking remember. If I say the word, you’re dead.” Grinder moves in a crouch, every muscle ready for me. Maybe if I wasn't still recovering from a concussion, I'd be confident I could take him, but adrenaline's only going to carry me so far. My ears are ringing and my balance feels off.
Besides, much as I fucking hate to admit it, the Grinder I knew wouldn’t be caught dead playing suburban bachelor. Is he telling the truth?
I wish I remembered more. His truck caught my attention for a reason, but it looks the same as a million others. Maybe it was a truck that hit me, but from the damage to my bike, it was a solid hit and that would leave a mark. All I'm doing now is risking getting my teeth kicked in without getting any fucking closer to an answer.
“Fine.”
He snorts a laugh. “Fine? This some kinda trick? You about to pull iron? Never seen you back down from a fight.”
My sides are acting up and my head's ringing. Fuck. Fuck! “I guess I'm feeling generous. But if I catch you fucking around me or anyone I know, I'll fucking end you.”
“So do it already,” he growls. “You and your new buddies already took out the rest of the club. What’s a little more blood on your hands?”
My head aches like a bitch, enough that I almost take him up on it. He’s right. I could kill him and he’d just be one more ghost in the choir at my back. “Fuck you, Grinder. I'm outta here.”
“Jesus fucking Christ. All that for nothing. You're lucky I’m an upstanding citizen now.”
I don't fucking believe that for a second.
“And that I don't have my piece on me.”
Now that I'll believe.
I ride away, feeling Grinder's glare burrowing into my back. Some days I can almost forget that I had a life before joining the Eagles. I was born into the Pit Vipers. There was never another choice for me. It gave me everything I needed, but the cost was bits and pieces of my soul until it felt like there was nothing left. Razor helped get me out, but I was already too broken to ever fit in on the outside.
Am I judging Grinder because I know I could never do what he’s doing?
If it wasn’t for Shelby and Mia living right around the corner, I could ride away and chalk what happened to me up to a random hit and run, but she feels like our responsibility. If she was messed up with Dodger—
My phone rings. Eagle-eye. What's he want? I pull over to take it. “What’s up, boss man?”
“Phoenix, get your ass back to the compound. We just got a message from the Outlaw Sons.”