Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 133511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
Hands stared at me, and I could see he was having trouble tracking. I really needed to buy Sadie some flowers, because this couldn’t have gone better if I’d scripted it. Sometimes the good guys actually win.
“Uh, no prob . . . fuck . . .”
“Let’s get him home,” Cord said. He turned to look around, spotting another prospect. “Get your ass over here!”
The kid hesitated, as if wondering whether he should listen to Cord. That confirmed it—there were definitely two factions, and this guy wasn’t on Marsh’s side. Good to know. The big man cracked his knuckles and spoke again. “Get your ass over here. You’re not in the fuckin’ club yet, cocksucker.”
Interesting—how the hell had Marsh come into power with this guy around? Didn’t add up.
“Take this loser home,” Cord said, nodding toward Hands. “You can use the truck.”
The prospect leaned over, grabbing Hands under the arms to drag him out.
“Want some help?” I asked. “Feel kinda responsible.”
The prospect looked to Cord again, silently asking for permission this time. Better. It was already clear that we’d have to clean house at some point, but this particular brother gave me some hope that it wouldn’t be a totally lost cause.
“What’s your name?” Cord asked.
“Levi,” I told him. “Just came by for the party with my cousin, Cooper. Talia—that girl over there—she invited us.”
Cord nodded, looking faintly disgusted.
“I’m sure he could use the help with this piece of shit,” he said. “Thanks.”
And that was that. I helped the prospect carry Hands out to a battered old truck parked on the far side of the building. He was conscious but not particularly alert as we tossed him into the backseat. Perfect.
“Thanks for the help,” the young prospect said, firing up the engine as I took the passenger seat. “He’s small but he’s heavy. I’m Cody, by the way.”
“Good to meet you,” I said. “Sorry about this.”
“Not your fault. I’m pretty new, but stuff like this happens all the time. That girl always pukes, too. No idea why they keep letting her come around—we always have to clean up after her.”
That’s your fuckin’ job, prospect. This guy would last about ten minutes at the Armory.
“Yeah, that’s weird. So how long you been with the club?”
“Only a couple weeks,” he admitted. “They’re looking for new members, though, and it’s always sounded kind of fun. I’m saving up for my bike right now.”
It took a minute for his words to sink in.
“You don’t have a bike?”
“Well, I’ve got a dirt bike, but nothing street legal. Marsh said it was okay, so long as I get one in the next month.”
I had literally no place in my head to put this information. Fucking hell, the club wasn’t just dysfunctional . . . it wasn’t even a real club. No wonder Pipes had issues. He must be losing his mind, hearing about shit like this, powerless to do a damned thing to stop it. We passed through town and turned down a gravel road off the highway, stopping after half a mile at an isolated trailer. I bit back a pleased smile—couldn’t have asked for a better setup. I’d head out here later tonight and take care of this fucker, easy.
Almost too easy. Was it some kind of trap?
“Here we go,” Cody said. “Hands, you got a key?”
“S’unlocked,” the man in the backseat managed to say. “No worries.”
Cody gave me a concerned look.
“You think he’s gonna die here, we leave him?” he asked. I shrugged.
“You got an order to take him home,” I said. “That means we bring him home. He’ll be fine, I’m sure.”
“Okay.”
Ten minutes later we had Hands laid out across his couch, and I’d even covered him in an old afghan I’d found tossed across the back of a chair. I’m thoughtful like that.
“Back to the party now?” Cody asked. I nodded.
“Yeah, gotta figure out how to get my date home. She’s kind of fucked up.”
“Who’re you with?” he asked, eyes lighting up. I could’ve laughed, the poor kid looked so desperate.
“Sadie,” I said shortly.
“Sadie the Sprayer?” he asked, wrinkling his nose. Fuck, not even the prospects wanted her.
“Yeah. Sadie the Sprayer,” I admitted.
“Hope you like barf,” the kid said, snorting. “She’s hot, but watch out—that chick is disgusting.”
Christ. No wonder she needed Talia to find her dates.
• • •
I wasn’t able to shake Sadie until nearly three in the morning. The good news was I managed to get the Princess of Puke home without her falling along the way. She’d even sobered up a bit, probably because none of the booze managed to stay in her for long.
Fucking hell, but the club owed me for this one in a big way.
I got back to the hotel first, so I settled in to watch some TV and wait for Gage. He showed up around four a.m., looking rough.