Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 121728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
“That typical?” Decker asked, making a mental note to throw some shit in the leather saddle bags on his borrowed bike. Just in case he found himself at more of these gatherings.
“For some. Others don’t give a shit. ‘Specially the ones that are fucked up on drugs or booze. Once they’re at that point, tainted food or drink ain’t gonna do shit.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Rowdy agreed.
“Heads up, bogey at two o’clock,” Goose warned under his breath, glancing over Decker’s right shoulder.
Here goes nothing.
The president of the Deadly Demons stepped up next to Rowdy, whacking him hard on the back. “Yo. Heard you’re lookin’ for me. What the fuck you want?”
Using the light from a single spotlight shining down onto the yard and glow of the huge bonfire full of old tires and who knows what other toxic shit, Decker turned and checked out the man he needed to impress. Or at least not piss off.
Decker’s best guess was that Viper was in his fifties. He could be younger but if so, he’d lived a hard life.
A black skullcap covered his long hair, he wore a stained Sturgis Bike Week sweatshirt under his black leather Demons cut, as well as the typical biker boots and worn jeans. Tattoos covered the back of both hands and the section of neck Decker could see through his overgrown beard. The man also had a snake tattooed along the side of his face. Starting at his hairline, the reptile’s body curled along his temple, with the head of the viper disappearing somewhere in his beard.
Classy shit right there.
Rowdy jerked a thumb in Decker’s direction. “My man here’s interested in prospectin’ for the club.”
An eyebrow hiked up Viper’s forehead as he turned to stare at Decker. “Yeah? Why the fuck you wanna do that?”
“Guess the question is, why the fuck not?” Decker answered, meeting the head biker’s shadowed eyes.
“Ain’t an answer.”
“Best one I got,” Decker countered.
Decker could barely see Viper’s pursed lips through that bushy mess on his face as the man studied him some more.
If Viper was trying to intimidate him by simply staring, he would fail.
“Got a sled?”
“Sure do. Parked out front.”
“Know how to keep your mouth shut?”
“Done time, so yeah, know when it should be open and when it should be shut.”
Viper turned to Rowdy. “How long you know him?”
About ten minutes.
“Must be about ten years now,” Rowdy lied.
Jesus.
“Yeah? Why didn’t you bring him ‘round sooner?”
Decker rushed to answer before Rowdy did since he wanted to be the “director” of this undercover assignment, not anyone else. This way he’d remember the details of his character and lessen the chance of fucking up. “Just recently got out after doin’ a nickel inside.”
Viper’s bushy eyebrows rose and he turned to take a closer look at Decker. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Decker answered, making his voice gruffer than normal.
“Where at?”
Decker once again hurried to answer before Rowdy since the UCO didn’t work in PA, so he might not know that prison system. “Mercer.”
“For what?”
“Possession.” Drugs were right up the Demons’ alley.
Viper raised his chin and stared Decker down. “Got a nickel for possession? Or for fuckin’ up?”
“Fuckin’ up. Had to survive somehow,” Decker answered, jerking up one shoulder as if doing five years in prison was nothing but a cake walk.
Viper considered him for a few more seconds before reaching into his cut and pulled out a fucking joint.
Great.
Goose rushed forward to light it for him, surprising the shit out of Decker. What, did Viper need to be treated like a king and the Demons were his damn subjects?
With the joint tucked between Viper’s barely visible lips, the lit end flared, giving his rough face a ruddy glow. After a second deep inhale, he held it out to Decker.
Fuck.
Forget that it was pot. He was more worried about putting his mouth on the same object as Viper. Hygiene wasn’t a top priority when it came to the Demons.
Taking it reluctantly, Decker put it to his lips and sucked the smoke into his mouth, pretending to inhale.
He handed it back to Viper but the prez shook his head, indicating that Goose or Rowdy should take it next. Goose snagged it and took a long hit.
Decker blew the smoke out of his nostrils before he started coughing on the trash weed. He knew having to do drugs would be a strong possibility, he cursed himself for not being better prepared. Especially with his virgin lungs.
Rowdy took a small hit similar to Decker’s before passing it back to Viper who asked, “What were you possessin’?”
He guessed this was sort of like a twisted job interview. “Blow.”
“You know your ass ain’t gonna be your own for at least a year? Gonna be ours. One of us tells you to do somethin’, you gotta do it. No negotiation. No backtalk. No questions. You do it. You up for that?”