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)
For being outnumbered, we're holding our own, that's for fucking sure. Phoenix takes a hit to the jaw that sends him reeling, and even Sledge gets stopped for a moment when two of the Outlaw Sons work together, throwing themselves at him from over a table. Shadow picks up a chair and smashes it over the back of a guy that's got a chokehold on Reaper, and then Wraith follows up with a boot stomp that has the guy out cold.
One of the fuckers pulls a knife, but I get myself behind him just in time, grabbing his wrist and slamming it into a post until there's a crunch of broken bone. He screams and the knife drops point first into the floor. Not giving the guy a chance to pull anything else, I whirl him around and slam him into the wall.
Brutal? Sure. But my heart is pumping and I’m feeling no pain. Not yet anyway. These fuckers almost killed Phoenix, so I'm not exactly bubbling over with sympathy or compassion today.
It takes both Sledge and Wraith working together to take down their big-as-a-fucking-mountain officer, but down he goes, his head slamming into the floor so hard I can feel it in my feet all the way over here. He should stay down, but he struggles to his feet and spits blood. “Enough! Say what you’ve come to say and get the fuck out,” he snarls.
I check the clock. We've only been here ten fucking minutes, even if it feels like a fucking eternity in the moment, but those ten minutes were enough to get our point across. The more time that passes, the greater the chance that reinforcements show up, and they won’t be friendly.
“The message is this.” A guy by my feet starts moving like he wants to get up, but I pin him with my boot to his back, and he doesn't have the strength to fight back. “Park Glen is and will stay neutral territory. You want to shake things up? Don’t take cheap shots at us unless you want to start something. The Screaming Eagles had no beef with you until now. Leave us alone, and it stays with this. Try to take this further, and we will fucking tear down your club house, stone for fucking stone, and then bury your asses under it. Got it?”
Next to me, Shadow chuckles and puts his hand on my shoulder in solidarity.
Their officer’s smile is red with blood. “Fuck you.”
I don't expect more than that, honestly. I'd say the fucking same. Doesn't matter. The message has been delivered, and the Outlaw Sons aren't gonna forget this anytime soon.
“Let's get the fuck outta here. Some of us have better places to be,” Wraith says with disdain dripping from his every word.
I look around to see how the guys are doing as we mount our bikes. Phoenix's nose has a dried trickle of blood under it. Sledge has a cut on his forehead and his knuckles are red and raw. Wraith and Reaper both took hits that are red now but are going to be fucking rainbow in the morning, I'm sure. Shadow looks alright, but he’s breathing carefully. Wild Child on the other hand is grinning like he's just had the best fucking time, even though there’s blood on his chin from a split lip, and the bright purple streak in his hair is all over the fucking place. Shrapnel winces as he rubs over a lump on his forehead, but all in all, especially given the odds, we did good. Fucking good.
Motorcycles rumble in the distance.
“Incoming,” says Sledge.
“Let's go.” We fire up our bikes as one and pull outta there, putting distance between us and the Burnout, and more importantly, the reinforcements.
12
SLEDGE
It feels fucking weird to ring the doorbell on my own house. For my whole life, this was where grandma lived, and for a lot of it, I was right here with her. Unlike my brothers who fit right in with our parents, I always felt like a cuckoo, an imposter dropped into the wrong family in spite of looking like a carbon copy of my father. The only one who accepted me as I am was the tough old broad who lived here.
“Sledge?” Shelby looks up at me in surprise as she opens the door.
I stare down at her, the words I’ve been practicing the whole way over drying up in my throat. It might be because from my angle I get just a little bit more of her cleavage than I think she's intending, but it’s mostly just me. I fucking suck at talking to anyone who isn’t in my immediate circle. Especially if they’re as fucking gorgeous as her.
“Do you need something?”
“Gutters.”
Shelby cocks her head, smiling a little. “Is there something wrong with them?”