Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 112736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
“What the fuck?” he asks in his usual surly way.
“Well, since you’ve been an old man for the past decade, I made it official. You’re a fucking grandpa now,” I say and lean over to smack him on his shoulder.
The look on his face is absolutely priceless. I can see at first he’s not sure if I’m fuckin’ with him or not, but when he hears Grem beside me cheering, he gets a grin so wide it nearly splits his face.
“Well, damn,” is all that Hound mutters as he takes the slaps and arm hugs on his shoulders.
Heading to my desk in the club office, I look around the room and feel the pangs of rage start up again in my stomach. Last time I said anything to Snowbird, I was kicking her ass out of here. Now she’s dead in the morgue with her body torn to pieces.
Embracing that deep-down rage in my stomach, I pick up my phone and push a contact’s name.
Simon’s voice comes through the phone. “Coy.”
“Simon,” I say and sit back in my chair. “I’ve got a couple of… things the Bastards need help with.”
“What kind and when?” he asks.
Thank god he’s not the chit-chatting type of motherfucker. He’s creepy enough as it is. Fucker’s nicknamed the Spider for a reason, and from what I can tell, his web is so fucking big he probably already knows what I need before I do. I’ve only met the man once, when I was meeting his boss, and I’m not sure which one is more dangerous.
The germaphobe or the fucking devil himself.
“Guns, ammo, Jude, and some information on a name,” I say to start off the negotiations.
“Do I seem like a supply house?” he asks with a deep sigh.
“No, but we’re willing to trade favors or cash again,” I inform him.
“Give me the list and I’ll see what Lucifer says,” he says curtly.
“Twenty-five assault rifles, enough ammo to arm a small country, and a couple of crates of Glocks with ammo, too,” I say.
Simon’s tone is downright impatient when he asks, “Jude, what will his function be? Will he be killing or guarding?”
“I’ll need him to be Jude,” I answer, and for the life of me I can’t figure out what else Jude could be beyond a murdering psychopath who happens to be a good guy to have around.
“That will be on his premium time then, if he’s willing to come out,” he says coldly.
“I understand,” I say.
“And the name?” Simon asks.
I find myself growling, “Mikhail Rastov out of Florida. Russian prick, more than likely connected. Bratva of some type.”
The dead silence over the line tips me off that I might have hit paydirt by calling Simon.
“Give me five minutes, I’ll call you back,” he says quickly before hanging up.
Well, shit, I’ve known Simon to be abrupt, but that was just odd even for his douchebag ass.
Looking around my office, I spot the bottle of whiskey sitting where I last left it with the cap still off.
I drank a lot of whiskey waiting for Allie to come home.
Picking up the bottle, I put the cap back on and drop it in the garbage can beside my desk. Then I spin back to the window looking out into the woods surrounding our clubhouse.
Seven minutes later my phone rings again and I push connect as I snap it off my desk. “Simon.”
“The assault rifles will be free, and Jude will be there within forty-eight hours. He’s waiving any and all fees at Lucifer’s request. We want Mikhail, Coy. We want him,” Simon says with more inflection in his voice than I’ve ever heard.
“Dead or alive?” I ask.
“Either, but we need to know how you came across him,” he almost demands.
“He married my ol’ lady a couple years back and beat on her. She ran back home and I’m bettin’, with the way she’s actin’, he’ll be followin’ her soon enough,” I say.
“Alive, if at all possible, but dead is acceptable,” Simon informs me. “Guns and ammo will be arriving in thirty-six hours. Have someone at your clubhouse to receive the shipment. I’ll send what I can about Mikhail. Lucifer and I want to warn you, he’s a very dangerous man.”
“Yeah, well he ain’t ever seen a Bastard before,” I say.
Not much more is discussed before Simon hangs up the phone.
Fuck, what hornets’ nest did Allie bring home with her?
Chapter Sixteen
Allie
“Put these on,” Coy says as he shoves a bundle of clothes into my arms.
I glance down at what he handed me then arch a brow at him. “Why?”
“Because that’s what you’re gonna wear tonight.” He nods his head at me to get to it and crosses his arms over his chest. Clearly expecting and wanting me to start stripping in front of him right here in the middle of his bedroom.