Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 575(@200wpm)___ 460(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 575(@200wpm)___ 460(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
And the men had each other’s backs one hundred percent. Even the women were close. Sisters more than friends, which was mind-blowing. If his memory served him right, the women associated with the TOs were catty bitches who’d claw each other’s faces off at the slightest provocation.
“So,” Copper said, steepling his fingers. “You asked for this meeting. What can I do for you?”
“Shit, sorry. Been lost in my head a lot lately.”
With a shrug, Copper leaned back in his chair and stroked his beard. Early on, LJ informed him that their prez did it when deep in thought himself. “You finally thinking about patching in?”
Same question as Holly.
“No,” he said, cringing when Copper frowned. “Not exactly. Copper, I’m gonna try not to sound like an ungrateful fucker here because you and your club have welcomed me in a way I never expected, but I don’t think I can stay here and be one of you guys.”
Copper’s hand stilled on his beard before he dropped it to the desk. “You’re thinking of leaving town?”
Hearing Copper say it helped solidify the decision as the right one. Much as he’d enjoyed his time in Tennessee with the Handlers, it wasn’t where he belonged. “I am. Nothing against your leadership, but I’m not sure I can be part of a club and not be the prez. I’m sorry. I suppose I have good reason, but I’ve got trust issues coming out my fucking ears.”
“Hmm,” Copper said. “I’m not even gonna pretend to understand the shit that must have gone through your head every day since the conviction. That kinda thing would destroy most of us. You’ve more than earned the right to have problems trusting. Feel what you’re gonna feel, man. We’re not big on judgment around here.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” And that acceptance was one of the things that impressed him most about the club. “Actually, watching you with your men has given me an idea, which is what I was hoping to talk to you about.”
“Okay? Shoot.” Copper leaned back in his chair and folded those massive arms across his chest. His was of settling in to listen.
Curly swallowed down a torrent of nerves he hadn’t noticed until right then. He only had a few years on Copper’s almost forty-one, but it seemed like a lifetime with what he’d gone through over the past decade. He felt like an old, bitter, has-been compared to the vital and commanding Copper.
Curly had been like that once and mourned those parts of himself.
But maybe with the right motivation, he could get them back. He cleared his throat. “I’m thinking it’s about time I head down to Florida.”
Copper’s face morphed into a dropped-jaw expression of shock that made Curly chuckle. Wasn’t often someone got one over on the big guy. “Back to where…it all happened?”
With a last huff of laughter, Curly said, “Yeah. Surprised me too, but I can’t get it out of my head. I’ve got a place there. Not much else, though. Cops arrested most of my club brothers shortly after I was locked up, and the others scattered around the country. The majority of my family dropped contact after I went away.” Not that he’d ever been close to them. He’d been an only child of a deadbeat alcoholic and a mom who’d passed young. “Had a cousin who kept in touch somewhat. But, uh…” He swirled a lock of hair around his fingers. It’d taken eight months to grow it from the buzz cut to chin-length. Back in the day, it’d been well past his shoulders and a mess of curls, hence his handle. Of course, it’d also been jet black without all the grays, but he could blame the stress of prison on that one.
He shrugged. “It’s my home. Where I grew up. What I know.” And he had an increasing need to prove he wasn’t what every single person in his hometown thought of him.
A loser.
An animal.
A child killer.
“Hey,” Copper said, drawing Curly’s gaze. “I get it. You’ve got unfinished business. You feel you got something to prove. Even if it’s only to yourself.”
Huh, maybe Copper did get it.
“Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.” Never one to beat around the bush, Curly stared Copper straight in the eye. “What would you think about opening up a charter in Florida? More specifically, me opening a Hell’s Handler’s charter in Florida?”
If he thought he’d surprised Copper with news of wanting to return to his hometown, he’d been mistaken. Now, the president’s eyes nearly fell out of his head.
Curly laughed. “You need to work on your poker face, man.”
Copper joined in the laughter, back to rubbing his beard. “Shit, man. Wasn’t expecting that at all. You caught me off guard. I fucking hate surprises.”
“I know. And I’m sorry. I’m not real good at easing into shit. Find it better to put it out there.” Not to mention his basic social skills, at least for polite conversation, had suffered after spending thirteen years surrounded by nothing but angry felons and embittered prison guards.