Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 109640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Crew turned and found Finn sitting at the far end of the conference table working on a laptop. He had no fucking clue what Pippi Longstocking was working on since he didn’t micromanage his team. He trusted them to get done what needed to be done.
All except for Rez.
“Yo, Little Orphan Annie!” he called out as he approached that end of the table.
Finn ignored him by keeping his head down and continuing to type away.
“Carrot Top,” he tried next.
Still no response except for the snickers from the other guys sitting at various stations doing whatever they were assigned to do for the day.
“Heat Miser.” When he still didn’t get a response, he followed up with, “Prince Harry!”
Rez snorted behind him and pushed past him to drop into the office chair next to Finn. He leaned closer to their redheaded brother, stage-whispering, “Crewella Deville is calling you. Hide your puppies.”
Finn glanced at Rez. “I thought I heard nails scratching down a chalkboard.” He looked directly at Crew. “I was right.”
“Hey, I was just talking to Nox…”
Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and turned to listen. Well, now he knew how to get everyone’s attention.
Finn sat back in his chair. “And?”
“Since I have the kids this weekend, I want to take them on a little club run on Sunday with everyone who has kids. I’ll haul Chloé on my bike and Nox agreed to take Dylan. Can you arrange something and get the word out? See if Cross wants to bring his twins and Jamison his twins and if they all want to go, we can have the childless members like you help out. I figured it would be fun. And, get this, Nox even suggested stopping for ice cream.”
“No shit,” Decker murmured from his spot at one of the computers.
“Yeah, no shit,” Crew echoed. “You want to bring Val?”
“Yeah, she’d love it and she’ll also be thrilled to hang out with the big kids.”
“As long as they’re not all pouting for being forced to go,” Crew told him. He turned back to Finn. “See who wants to participate and make sure we have enough seats for them all.”
Finn’s brow dropped low. “How the fuck did I get stuck with doing this when it’s your idea?”
“Last I checked, the damn patch on your cut states you’re the road captain. You planning on tearing off that patch anytime soon?”
“For fuck’s sake, I should,” Finn grumbled and shook his head. “I’ll send out a mass text and see who’s available and how many want to go.”
“Don’t strain your fingers doing it.”
“Finger,” Rez corrected Crew. “He hunts and pecks when he types his texts.”
“And you fat-finger yours,” Finn countered. “Half the time I don’t know if your text is in Spanish or English.”
“It’s Spanglish.”
“What does ‘typo’ mean in Spanglish?” Finn asked.
Rez came back with, “It means yo momma.”
Crew shook his head. “Hey, can we graduate from kindergarten to the first grade now?”
“Yeah, because you always act mature,” Decker said from his desk. “Anyway, just do it, Finn. For Nox.”
“I already have a run scheduled for two weekends from now.”
“Like another one is going to hurt. Or can’t you afford gas for that machine of yours since you’re penny-pinching for Mel’s new club?” Decker asked.
“I can afford gas just fine with all the wages the feds are paying me for this assignment,” Finn answered.
Laughter filled the room.
“Yeah, I’m going to buy a Lamborghini with my federal paycheck,” Reynolds said dryly from the far corner.
“Better buy a Hot Wheels track for it, too,” Torres suggested.
“Anyway, get it done,” Crew told the road captain.
“When did you get to be president? You don’t even sit on the damn committee,” Finn complained.
“Since Jamison isn’t around right now and Fletch is buried deep within the DAMC, I’m acting president.”
Finn huffed out, “Bullshit. It only works like that in your imagination. That’s not what the bylaws say.”
“Like you’ve read the bylaws,” Crew scoffed. “Anyway, let’s get back to the reason we’re all on this task force. Let’s start with the simple shit since it can’t get any more simple than T-Bag. Has anyone heard any chatter about that prospect?”
“Nope. Nothing,” Torres answered. “He just disappeared like a fart.”
“Since we dropped hints about him skimming from their meth supply, the Demons probably stripped the prospect of his cut,” Rez surmised.
Decker grinned. “Or made him magically disappear.”
“Either way, no loss.”
“Karma,” Decker agreed with Rez.
“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.”
Decker sniffled. “I need a tissue. I’m going to miss that motherfucker.”
“Can we get them to do the same for Saint?” Rez asked.
“Saint’s a patched member,” Finn reminded Rez and Decker. “It would take a vote to get rid of him.”
“And a good reason,” Crew added. “Unfortunately, getting physical with the girlfriends of the federal task force members investigating their MC won’t fly.”