Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 94313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
“I’m not going anywhere,” my mom called from halfway across the room.
“How the fuck did you hear that?” Rumi called back.
“If you were trying to be quiet, you failed, son.”
“We’re just tryin’ to get poor Otto laid, Ma,” Rumi said innocently.
“You leave my baby boy alone,” she said with a laugh. “He doesn’t need you corrupting him.”
“Ah yes,” Rumi said snarkily. “He is clearly as pure as the driven snow.”
Eventually my brother and Nova walked away and Brody got called into an argument so I was left alone again to wander around the room. Everyone was celebrating and I was the main attraction. It reminded me of the birthday parties we’d have as kids when all eyes were on me, asking if I was having fun, singling me out, getting me whatever I wanted. Growing up in a family of five kids, I’d fucking loved my birthday. I wasn’t as interested in the attention as an adult.
“Who woulda guessed the little bruiser who broke every toy he was given would grow up to be one of my best mechanics and join the club,” our president Dragon joked as I stepped up next to him at the bar. “How ya doin’, kid? Havin’ fun?”
“Glad I won’t be bartendin’ or cleanin’ the bathrooms tonight,” I replied, laughing as he gave me a shove.
“You’ll do what’s asked of you and shut your trap,” he said gruffly, but he was almost smiling. “Bein’ a prospect sucks, but there’s a point to it. Gotta know if you’re willin’ to take the jobs no one else wants. Follow orders. Put the club before yourself.”
“I’ll do all that,” I confirmed.
“Never doubted it.” Dragon picked up his whiskey and turned to face the crowd. “You boys, you’re all born into it. You know what’s expected of you before your first day—the others, not so much.”
“Wanker’s a good guy,” I said, following his gaze toward a prospect who was getting fucked with across the room. My dad and a couple other guys were clearly giving him shit about something, but the guy was holding his own.
“Seems to be,” Dragon confirmed. “We’ll see.”
“He was stoked that he wasn’t goin’ to be on the gate tonight,” I said, laughing as my dad stuck his foot out to trip Wanker. “He’s probably regrettin’ that now.”
“I can’t for the life of me remember that kid’s real name,” Dragon muttered, watching Wanker like he was an insect under a microscope.
“It’s Cian,” I replied.
“Cian,” Dragon repeated. His lips tipped upward a little. “The accent is enough for me to keep him straight from the other two, but fuck if I can remember their names.”
“His parents were Irish,” I said helpfully.
“I’m aware,” he said dryly. “The accent is familiar.”
I coughed in embarrassment. Yeah, obviously he recognized the accent. The old vice president—and his father-in-law—never lost his Irish accent even after a lifetime in America.
“Look around the room,” Dragon said after a few moments. “Most of these people were your family before, but they’re all family now. You were one of the protected before.” He looked at me. “Now you do the protectin’.”
“Understood.”
“Though, you’ve been doin’ that a while, yeah?”
I nodded in understanding. A few years before, I’d killed a man who’d threatened my sister-in-law Emilia. I hadn’t meant to kill him, just knock him out before he could shoot her, but he’d died anyway. It was something that I knew no one outside the club would ever know about, a secret that I could be confident would never see the light of day.
“It’s a hard life,” Dragon said, watching as his wife laughed at something my aunt Farrah said. “But a damn good one.”
I cleared my throat.
“Got shit we need to go over on Monday,” he said, looking back at me. “But it can wait. Grab another drink and go find a woman.”
“I’ll get the drink,” I said, turning toward the bar. Dragon huffed and slapped me on the back, making the breath go out of me in a whoosh. By the time I’d inhaled again, my hands were clenched into fists and he’d walked away.
“How you doin’, baby brother?” Micky asked, grimacing as he made his way toward me. “Brace yourself for more of that shit. Swear to God I got my back slapped no less than twenty times the night I was patched in.”
“Motherfucker,” I breathed. The thought of it made me queasy.
“You’ll live,” he said, grinning at the look on my face. “Feelin’ any different with that member patch on your chest?”
“A bit,” I replied. “Glad the probation is finally over at least.”
“Yeah, I hear that.”
“Where’s Emilia?”
“She left early,” Micky replied. “Rhett’s got an ear infection so she didn’t want to leave him with Myla too long.”
“Myla was pissed she couldn’t come tonight.”
“Oh, I know.” He chuckled. “She called me and Rumi both, tryin’ to get us to sneak her in.”