Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 73311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
It was held loosely in my hand, even after hitting the ground hard.
“What the fuck?” Truth scrambled to his feet. “What the actual fuck?”
Truth had been in the military.
Though, he hadn’t seen actual combat.
When he’d entered the Navy, he’d been on a ship each and every time he was deployed. What he hadn’t ever had to experience was roadside bombs in hostile territory.
In recent years Truth had learned to fly, and had then proceeded to fly the local station’s helicopter for them during times that they needed aerial footage of something going on in the area.
Sure, he had military experience, and he also had crime experience. What he didn’t have, however, was the same anticipation of danger that I did. The same thing was also reversed. I didn’t see the same dangers that he did.
“You see anything?” I asked him, looking around my quickly darkening surroundings.
“Nope.” Truth shook his head and went to where his helmet had fallen free of his grasp. “And I don’t think we should delay any longer.”
I agreed.
But where there was one trap, there was likely two.
Thankfully we didn’t see another thing as we finished making our way to the clubhouse.
And by the time we got there, every single person who’d been inside was now outside waiting for us.
“Was that y’all?” Stone looked angry, arms crossed tightly across his chest.
I snorted.
“In a way,” I conceded. “There was an abandoned car on the side of the road.”
“It set his spidey senses off,” Truth added when he realized I wasn’t going to.
“The car was what, a bomb?”
“One of those ones that’s meant to go off when we pass it. Likely to go off at a certain decibel level.”
“Doesn’t that mean that someone had to have been close to detonate it?” Stone asked.
“Not exactly,” Ghost chimed in. “It could be set to go off at a certain decibel level. If anything surpasses that sound barrier, it’ll go off.”
Stone looked pissed.
“Well this is just the icing on my goddamned cake,” Stone grumbled. “Get inside so we can have our meeting.”
I followed inside, and when I left thirty minutes later, I wasn’t any less confused.
“Someone’s blackmailing the club?” Seanshine mumbled as he followed me out. “Who would be stupid enough to do that?”
Not a fucking clue.
We weren’t one percenters like most clubs, but we sure as fuck weren’t fucking angels, either.
Sean, aka Seanshine, was born and raised in this club, since his dad was the vice-president.
He knew more about this club than anyone other than Stone himself.
“Apparently, someone is,” I muttered as I straddled my bike. “I’m no expert on all this shit. I’ve never actually had to deal with anything like this before…but that note Stone just read…” I shook my head. “That’s fucked up, and there’s nothing to even go by. How do you fight an enemy that you can’t see? Who disappears before you realize they were there in the first place?”
The note had been pretty simple and straightforward.
Stop fucking with our colors or you’ll regret it.
That was it.
It wasn’t even written or given to someone specifically.
The note itself had been found duct-taped to the front gate.
It could’ve been to anyone.
But me, that was. I kept my nose out of shit, and kept to myself.
I also wasn’t involved in shit that had the possibility to backfire.
I worked. I went home. I slept. I repeated.
That was literally it unless it came to club functions, none of which would’ve garnered that kind of reaction.
Every once in a while, I would go on a ride with the club, or go to a party, but then I’d disappear into a corner and nobody even realized I was there.
“I know,” Sean mumbled. “And I’m fairly sure it’s not directed at me or Dad…” he shook his head. “Ghost or Truth is my bet.”
“Hmm,” I murmured. “Just have to keep alert. You know how to do that, don’t you?”
Sean gave me an ‘are you kidding me’ look, causing me to laugh.
“Shut up.”
Grinning, I started my bike, strapped on my helmet, and took off, heading in the direction of dinner.
I slowed down when I came upon the cops that were checking out the car, waving to one of the officers that I knew—Martin Brown—as I passed.
He gave me a thumb up, and then answered his phone seconds after I put him in my rearview.
I pulled into the diner twenty minutes later, wondering if I could read and nobody would bother me.
I hated driving home and eating half-warmed food.
Five minutes into my dining experience, I was reading my book and snacking on fried pickles when someone sat down in my booth.
I contemplated not looking up, but that would make me ruder than the person who decided to join me without my expressed permission.
Carefully placing down my fried pickle that was only half eaten, I wasn’t surprised to find Tawny sitting there.