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 curl my fingers around the wrench. “If you—”
“No!” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Do you really think I’d turn?”
“Then stop talking in fucking circles.” I glance around the huge garage attached to the side of the Screaming Eagles clubhouse. It's not unusual for members to be working on their bikes in here, even at this hour, but tonight it's fucking dead. “No one's here. Just spit it out.”
“When did you grow up? When did I get so old? Look, I don’t know what’s going on. If I did I’d go to Eagle-eye. That’s why I’m asking you. I got a call the other night from an unlisted number asking me if the grass really was greener on the other side, if it meant being a pampered little lap dog. When I asked who was asking, they said to think about it and hung up.”
“Did you recognize the voice?”
He shakes his head. “Sounded familiar enough that it’s itching inside my brain, but I can’t place it.”
“They're dead,” I snap. “We made fucking sure of that.”
Razor shakes his head. “You know as well as I do that’s not true. We cut off their heads, but there’s always a couple rats that manage to run down the ropes. For all intents and purposes, the club's just dust in the wind, but some of them got away. I thought someone was fucking with me, but then you were targeted. I think someone wants to revisit the old glory days, and they're trying to get the band back together, if you get my drift. So I was wondering if you’d heard anything before they hit.”
I stroke the back of my head gingerly, running my fingertips over the goose egg that still hurts like a bitch. “No, but maybe this was my phone call. I’m the fucking defector, remember? You slid out between the cracks right before everything went down.”
Razor's chuckle is dark and more than a little bitter. “Maybe you're right. If someone thinks I joined up here just to save my skin and they want to hurt the Eagles, they might be willing to take a chance.”
“Or maybe we’re both just paranoid motherfuckers.” I sight down the rear of the bike to see if anything else looks twisted. I’d rather replace too much than have something give out while I’m speeding down the highway. “I could’ve just been hit by some fucking suburbanite coming home after one too many at the bar and worried about getting a DUI.”
“I don't fucking believe in coincidences. Something's going on. And I think it's tied to the Outlaw Sons.”
I snort in disbelief. “The Sons? Why the fuck would you think that? They’ve always kept a tight rein on things and stayed out of club drama.”
“You haven't been paying attention.” He pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and starts playing with it, knocking it against his thigh so one of the cigs pops out halfway, then pushing it back in. “There was a power vacuum after we cleaned up, and they’ve been expanding fast. Too fast. It dilutes authority and fucks with the whole dynamic. Eagle-eye, King and the rest of the officers have been keeping eyes on them. Dunno any more than that. I might be an old buddy, but I’m not inner circle, you know?” He looks around to make sure no one's come in.
I nod. He and Eagle-eye go way back, but Razor’s fairly new to the Screaming Eagles. “Alright, but even if someone wanted to take a shot at me, how the fuck would they know to do it there and then? Even I didn’t know exactly when I was going to be coming back or which route I’d take.”
He stuffs the pack back in his pocket while making an annoyed grimace. “True… true… Maybe you’re right. I’m getting old and maybe I’m seeing shadows, but remember that us old guys are still around for a reason. It ain’t from taking chances.”
“Fair.” I toss the wrench back in the tray. There isn’t much more I can do before I can grab new parts tomorrow. And get Wraith to put a new paint job on it. “I’ll keep my eyes and ears open.”
“Do that.” Razor laughs. “It’s been a couple decades since anyone gave a shit, but I’m your godfather. I’d hate to outlive you.”
I growl and take a lazy swing at him, but he dodges outta the way. He might be gray, but he's still spry. I try not to let the wince show on my face when my beat-up body protests the sudden movement. Then I sober. “Fuck, if the Pit Vipers are back and out to cause trouble… things are gonna get ugly.”
He nods. “Ugly as fuck.”
7
SHELBY
“Come on, baby. Are you sure you don’t want to wake up? You’re getting pretty heavy,” I whisper as I pull Mia out of her booster seat.