Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
"And I sent gifts. And one of those fucking fruit arrangement things. The expensive ones."
"Did you tell her ahead of time that you couldn't make it?"
"Of course I did."
For all of West's faults, he was a good son, a great brother. He had a deep-seated respect for the fairer sex even if he didn't always appear that way from the outside.
"I don't see the problem."
To that, he snorted.
"Man, you know women. They don't want gifts. They want your presence."
Well, that was sage advice if I ever heard it. Even if, in this situation, it was irrational. Work was work sometimes. Everyone had to make a living, even if it meant missing a birthday or holiday here or there.
"I somehow got talked into taking all of them on a long weekend."
"Sounds kinda nice."
"At a meditation retreat."
"Oh, for fuck's sake."
"Yeah," he agreed, tipping the bottle once again.
If there was one place I could not picture West, it was someplace he was supposed to be silent and still.
"Hell, maybe there will be a hot yoga teacher there or something. Imagine the positions you could get her into."
Yep.
There was the West I knew.
"Wanna hit Chaz's tonight? Daddy Reign is away, the kids got to play and all that shit."
He just wanted to be able to bring a couple chicks back to the clubhouse to impress them, and he knew Cash—Reign's brother, the vice president–was left in charge and was a hell of a lot more lenient about that kind of thing.
I'd turned him down a lot lately, finding my mood darker than usual, not able to muster even the smallest bit of interest in going out, and pretending to be into something when all I wanted to do was get back to my room at the clubhouse, play a little guitar.
It had been over a month since I had hit the bar with him. Which I was pretty sure made me a shit friend. Especially since he'd been more tolerant than usual, going off on his own or even hanging back at the club, playing pool with me or initiating a poker game and stealing untold amounts of money from the rest of us.
It was time to get back out there.
Even if I had to try to force the interest at first.
"I think..." I started, hearing the low rumble of a bike coming closer, wondering who was coming back.
Lately, well, the clubhouse had been all but abandoned save for West and me. The other guys dropped in occasionally, but usually not later at night when they had wives or kids to be home with. They left us to do the rounds during the undesirable hours, making sure we kept the clubhouse secure.
It wasn't common for anyone to be heading back to the club after nightfall.
"Uncle Cash checking in on us?" West asked, shrugging.
If anyone were to be heading in, it likely would be Cash. He didn't have any young kids. And his wife was in charge of Hailstorm, which meant she sometimes took off at a moment's notice, leaving him alone and bored.
But from what I understood, Lo didn't do a lot of trips anymore, choosing to stay back, to spend time with Cash, to spend time with her adopted daughter Chris.
Chris who had spent time in a basement, had been horribly abused, who likely would have still been in that basement if not for...
"Something's wrong," West said, already off the couch, making his way toward the door, grabbing a gun out from a drawer under the bar on his way.
He was right.
If it was Cash, he would have been inside the gates and cutting the engine by now.
From the sound of things, whoever was on the bike was stuck at the gates, held up by one of Hailstorm's guards who still stood sentry at the gates for a reason I didn't understand and didn't feel I had the right to question.
If they knew who it was, they would have waved them right through.
"Probably someone who wants to prospect," West concluded as we made our way into the yard, finding someone on a bike in a leather jacket and a helmet, the light on the street casting his face in shadow.
It had been a long while since we got a new member. A part of me was thinking that maybe Reign was having a sort of hiring freeze because in a few short years, his sons, and the sons of the other older OG brothers would be aging up enough to prospect themselves, and he wanted to make sure they would have a place should they want it.
It seemed unlikely there simply weren't any people out there who wanted to join.
We would need to call in Cash after all, neither of us being senior enough to make any kind of decisions on prospects. While Reign generally took into account everyone's thoughts and opinions on things that impacted the whole club, ultimately, we all knew decisions like prospects were made by him, Cash, and our road captain, Wolf.