Series: Silver Spoon MC Series by Nichole Rose
Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
"Devin, baby doll," he growls, losing patience. "Why the fuck have you been sleeping in my bed for the last week? You live with your great aunt."
"I ran away."
That pulls him up short. He blinks those blue, blue eyes at me in consternation.
"I'd rather not drag the MC into this," I say, trying to pull free of his grasp, which only has him pulling me closer. At this point, I'm practically in his lap. He smells like amber and cedar, the base notes in expensive cologne that linger long after he leaves the room. It's an intoxicating combination. One that drives me crazy.
"Too bad," he says, not giving an inch. "Start talking."
"It's just family drama."
"Bullshit."
I huff at him.
"You quit your job, ran away, and have been committing residential burglary for a week straight. That's more than family drama, baby doll," he growls, eyes narrowed on me. "Start talking."
"It's a long story," I hedge.
"I've got time." He seems amused. "It's just me and you."
"It is?" I peer toward the door. "Really? Where is everyone?"
"On a run."
"It's midnight."
"Not that kind of run," he says, and he's definitely amused now.
"I don't understand."
"It's a poker run, baby doll. It's when a bunch of a bikers get together to raise money for charity by playing poker," he explains.
"Oh. And they run?" I try to work out the mechanics, but it seems exhausting to me.
"No, they ride." He chuckles. "There are different stops along the way where they draw cards. At the end, whoever has the best hand wins."
"Cool," I whisper, adding this to the list of things I want to do.
"Stop stalling and start talking, Devin."
"My brother and uncle are in town looking for me. They want to take me back to Houston, but I don't want to go, so I left before they got here. Now, I'm waiting for them to get tired of looking for me and go back to Houston."
"You couldn't just tell them you don't want to go?" He quirks a brow at me.
"You haven't met Dimitri and Uncle Dante," I mutter. "You don't tell them anything."
He scowls at this. "No one makes you do anything you don't want to do, Devin."
"It's not that simple."
"Why the fuck not?"
"Because my uncle is Dante Arakas," I whisper.
Chapter Three
Jude
"Say that again," I say, sure I misunderstood.
"Which part?"
I growl at her.
"My uncle is Dante Arakas," she whispers, confirming that I heard her correctly the first time.
"Jesus fucking Christ," I swear, staring at her in shock. The Arakas family is the biggest crime family in Houston, if not Texas. They're virtually untouchable. The FBI has been trying to build a case against them for years, but it mysteriously falls apart every single time. I have my suspicions that has to do with the fact that they're one of the only things keeping the cartels in check.
If not for them, drug and human trafficking through Texas would be a whole hell of a lot worse. And it's not great to begin with. Not saying I agree with the shit Devin's family does, but when the system is broken, sometimes street rules are the only rules that matter. The Arakas family does what the system can't. Cartels actually respect Dante Arakas. They fear him.
Fear is a powerful motivator. It's damn sure an effective one.
I may be a hard ass when it comes to keeping my brothers on the straight and narrow, but I'm a realist too. Light doesn't exist when darkness dies. Rather, light exists relative to darkness. Without it, there is no light. If we never know sorrow, how do we understand joy? If we never know the struggle; how do we appreciate our blessings?
We're human. We clawed our way out of the dirt and fought our way to the top of the food chain. Those instincts didn't just die because we donned fancy fucking suits and learned to fly planes. There will always be crime. Guys like Dante Arakas may be part of the problem, but they aren't the biggest part of the problem, not by far. He isn't selling kids into slavery or murdering entire families just because he fucking can.
I'll take him over some of those shady motherfuckers any day.
"You're a Quartermain," I say.
"I'm an Arakas," Devin says. "My mom was a Quartermain. I started using her last name when Uncle Dante and Dimitri sent me here. They thought it would be safer for me."
"Dimitri?"
"Dimitri Arakas." The tip of her pink tongue peeps out, wetting her bottom lip. "My brother."
"Jesus," I mutter, trying to wrap my head around this. Devin is an Arakas. I release my grip on her to scrub my hands down my face, pretty fucking certain Cash doesn't have a clue about any of this. He would have called us to Church months ago if he'd known. She worked at his wife's flower shop for months with Hadley and Kyra. I'm guessing he never ran her background. Probably thought it wasn't necessary since she was still in high school at the time and living with Beverly Quartermain, who has lived in Silver Spoon Falls since before Jesus was crucified.