Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 111416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
“Is that the only way up?”
Jamison nodded. “The exterior metal stairway seems to be the only way to access upstairs.”
Rez spoke up next. “We’d have to enclose them.”
“Would we?” Decker asked.
Crew stepped up next to Jamison. “It would be smart if we want this place to be on the D.L. Do we really want to advertise that this is our church?”
“Fuck no,” Rez answered. “We should avoid any signs at all. In fact, I’d leave the exterior exactly how it looks now so, at first glance, the place looks abandoned. We should fence off the parking area, too. Not only to protect our bikes but keep it under wraps who we are and how many of us are here.”
Nox joined them wearing his typical scowl. “Are you that fucking paranoid?”
“It would be stupid not to be cautious, brother,” Rez said.
“I agree,” Jamison said. “That’s why when I got the call about this place and heard some of the details, I figured it would be perfect.”
“This place is far from perfect,” Fletch muttered.
“You know what I mean. You also know how long I’ve been looking for the right spot.”
Not only the right spot but one at the right price.
Fletch walked to what seemed like the center of the first floor. With one hand on his hip and his phone held out in front of him, he turned in a circle again, this time letting out a low whistle.
Thick dust covered everything he could see. Cobwebs hung like ghosts in the corners. The cheap drop ceiling had missing panels and what remained was either falling down or badly stained. Cracks and holes decorated every wall. The floor was full of missing and broken tiles. Any furniture within his circle of light appeared broken and no better than firewood.
With his mouth still turned downward, Nox scratched the back of his neck after seeing the same disaster as Fletch. “Did this used to be a bar?”
“Sure was,” Jamison answered, “but an underground one. PLCB busted it about three years ago, shut it down, the state seized it and it’s now finally coming up on the auction block.”
“Damn. A modern day speakeasy. Was Frasier a part of the bust?”
Timothy Frasier was both a BAMC member and a liquor enforcement officer. Since he was in the middle of working on a case, he couldn’t join them on today’s run or the tour. Not that he needed one, since Fletch assumed he’d been in the bar when it was up and running. However, he most likely hadn’t seen its current condition.
Though, Fletch was pretty damn sure the bar hadn’t been much better then. Illegal bars usually were a hole in the wall, especially since they didn’t follow any laws or standards that regulated bars did.
“Yeah, I got the heads up about this place from him. He let me know about it finally coming up for auction. It’s been stuck in red tape for the past three years.”
“Or… hear me out, Axel,” Cross started, “We could raid and take over your brother’s clubhouse. I guarantee their church wouldn’t take as much work as this.”
“Oh yeah, sure. You want to do that just to chap Diesel’s ass. And while I’m all for fucking with my wife’s asshole cousin as much as possible, I need to consider how that would go over at holiday dinners with the family. You know, since most of my blood belongs to the Dirty Angels. You know, since my granddad was one of the founders. Anyway, as we all know, SVPD would need a valid reason to raid their MC. And lastly, you know as well as I do, Cross, they’ve been keeping their noses clean.”
Of course Cross was well aware of that since a few years ago he married Nash, one of the DAMC members. Them hooking up caused a lot of issues on both sides of the fence. To the point where Cross was banned from the MC’s property—or any club activities—until he no longer wore a badge. Until then, Cross did whatever he could to get under the club enforcer’s skin. “Sure they are. They simply outsource their bad behavior by getting the Shadows to do their dirty work. This way, at the surface, their hands look clean.”
“They all have families now,” Jamison mumbled.
“So does the fucking Mafia.” Crew clapped his hands together loudly. “Okay, well, I’m ready for a beer. Or two. Can we get this nickel tour over with so I can go put my boots up, suck down a few cold brews before Sunday Night Football?”
“You don’t have your kids?” Miller asked.
Crew shook his head. “Not my weekend. Outside the court-appointed schedule, she only leaves them with me when they get on her last nerve or she has a dick date.”
“A dick date? You mean when her date’s a dick, or she’s getting some dick?”