Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
I climb off the bed even though lethargy has begun to take over my body. I change out of the pajamas I’ve been wearing since getting back from the funeral two days ago. Sliding on jeans and a crumpled t-shirt, I don’t even bother to do more with my hair than a messy knot.
I walk out the door with nothing but my phone. I don’t plan to return, so there’s no need in grabbing anything else. My mind is made up. My fate is written in stone much like the one that is sure to mark Alec’s grave.
Chapter 2
Kid
“That’s the last of it,” I tell Emmalyn as I set down the massive box of Styrofoam cups.
“You’re wonderful. Have I ever told you that?”
“All the time,” I say pulling my knife from my belt to cut open the box. “But feel free to keep saying it. I love it when beautiful women sing my praises.”
“Back off my girl, asshole,” I hear from an all too familiar voice coming up from behind me. My eyes widen, but Emmalyn just winks at me as Kincaid, our MC’s president, wraps his arms around her.
I adore Emmalyn; I can honestly say she’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. So it came as no surprise that Diego “Kincaid” Anderson fell hard and fast for her. If I were ever inclined to settle down, which I’m not, I’d aim for someone like her.
“Leave him be, Diego,” Emmalyn says swatting at the arms around her waist.
“Like hell,” he says in his deep baritone. “You got eyes for my girl, Kid?”
“Only in her dreams,” I say walking away from them both. They’re so crazy in love I can only tolerate the clingy, sweetness for a few minutes at a time. I turn back in their direction. “Come on, Ollie,” I say patting my leg for their dog to join me. “Little boy like you doesn’t need to hear all the nastiness spewing from your daddy’s mouth.” Tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth, Ollie follows along beside me.
“Jackass,” Kincaid says from behind my back. Emmalyn giggles softly, and then I hear a quiet moan. Most days they can’t seem to possess the ability to keep their hands off each other, clearly today is no different.
The park is filling up pretty fast. I love seeing the townspeople mix with members from both the Cerberus MC as well as the Renegade MC, a visiting club from out of town. Tickets are being sold for plates of BBQ to raise money for a war memorial. Sad really, that this is just now happening, considering how many military members this town has lost to this war as well as the ones prior.
Several churches have also gotten involved in today’s festivities. Although not very religious myself, I’m filled with pride that our MC has a high enough standing in the community that the religious types are joining us for a great cause.
I make my way to a quieter side of the park, away from the food and children playing. Shadow must have had the same idea, as he’s standing on the outskirts drinking tea from a Styrofoam cup.
“Some turnout, huh?” I ask as I approach.
“Yeah,” he says looking around. “We’re going to match whatever this little shindig brings in and Scorpion’s club is going to do the same, but it’s always nice to see the town’s people come together.”
“I was just thinking the same thing.” I kick at the dirt with the front of my steel-toed boot.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m glad we’re doing this, but being around this many people at one time makes my skin crawl. These are the town’s people; not my people. My skin tingles and crawls, awareness and unease creeping up my spine; not knowing the cause of it makes matters worse.
I raise my eyes to the crowd, my military training and paranoia never far away. It wasn’t long ago that one of our own turned on the club, more specifically Kincaid and Emmalyn. He’s six feet under by now, but only having happened a few weeks ago has me still on edge.
Scanning the people in the park, I don’t see anything or anyone I’d consider a threat. My eyes falter on a girl sitting alone on a bench. She’s young, beautiful, and looks completely heartbroken. I follow her quick glance and see her watching the parents of Alejandro Sanchez, the young soldier we’re honoring today.
Distraught doesn’t even begin to describe her.
“Pretty little thing, isn’t she?” Shadow asks in his deep southern drawl.
I remain silent, watching her pull something from her pocket, pop it in her mouth, and take a long pull from a bottle of water. I frown and shake my head. People deal with grief and pain in many different ways. Who am I to judge if this girl wants to ease her suffering with a few pills.