Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
But I had no idea how far that step would take me.
“Can I do it?” I ask him, my throat aching.
“Fuck yes, angel,” he says, then kisses me before handing over the lighter.
And finally, finally—I burn down the fucking Cage.
Epilogue
“Show of hands.” At the head of the table, Saxon calls for a vote. “Those in favor of establishing a new chapter of the Hellfire Riders?”
Every hand on the executive board goes up. No surprise there. Our numbers are getting too damn big for this little town, and after all the shit that went down a while back—the Devil’s Hangmen gone, the Iron Blood gone, the Eighty-Eight weakened without Papa and the other Cage-fuckers to provide all the shit they were running—there’s been a huge power vacuum in the region. And the Hellfire Riders aren’t looking for power, but we’d sure as fuck like to take up some more territory and flex some muscle when more skinheads or skin traffickers try to move in.
And do it real quiet, just like we’ve always been.
“All right, then. Record that vote, Widowmaker, and then all you fuckers go home.”
Zoomie smirks. “Aw,” she says to me. “I think the new daddy is cranky.”
“Probably hasn’t slept in about two years,” I agree. Not since his first boy came along. Now the second’s only three months old. “Jenny always looks real well-rested, though.”
Saxon narrows that steely glare at me. “Laugh it up, fucker. Your turn is coming.”
I grin. Yeah, it is. And I can’t fucking wait.
Groaning, Zoomie shakes her head. “This new chapter shouldn’t be called the Hellfire Riders. Just call it the Happy Fuckers Club.”
“And make you the president?” I ask her.
“I can’t be a member. You have to be real sappy to patch in. Jack could be prez, though,” she says, looking toward Blowback, and his dead flat stare lights up when he grins at her.
“I’ll be prez,” he agrees. “But it sounds like we also need to have a baby.”
She snorts. “We have a dog. That’s close enough. So you’ll be prez, then we’ll throw both these happy fuckers in there, too”—she waves toward me and Saxon—“and also you, and you, and you.”
She points to Gunner and Duke and Bull, who all missed the beginning of the conversation but look real worried now that she’s singling them out.
“What club are we joining?” Duke asks.
“The Happy Fuckers Club,” I tell him.
Bull seems to consider that before nodding. “Yeah, all right. Next executive meeting, I’m bringing Nadia in that little lamb pajama set she’s got, and we’re going to spend the whole time coloring rainbows. Because I’m a real happy fucker when we do that.”
“And that’s just too damn cute.” Zoomie pushes back from the table. “So I’ll leave all you dick-swingers to this sappy shit, while I go have a real good time out drinking with your wives.”
Yeah, maybe I’ll be going that way soon, too. I look to Gunner as she heads out. “Where are they meeting up tonight?”
“The prez’s place.”
“House or bar?”
“Bar,” Saxon says.
“No offense, brothers,” Duke tells us as he gets to his feet. “This happy fuck club sounds like good clean fun, but I’m thinking Zoomie’s got a point. I can stay here and look at you all, or I can go look at Olivia, and I know which one sounds like a real good time.”
“Shit, I don’t know.” Bull looks real torn. “Gunner’s so pretty.”
“Prettier than Sara?” Gunner asks dryly.
The big man shoots out of his chair. “Not even close. Sorry, brother. Maybe there’s an Ugly Fuckers Club you can join.”
Scowling, Saxon drums his fingers on the table. “Does anyone else have any real funny jokes to tell before we get the fuck out of here?”
Blowback’s expression doesn’t crack a bit. “Lily’s pregnant,” he says.
The prez closes his eyes like he’s in pain. “And now I really fucking need to go see my wife.”
* * *
Just like I always really need to see mine. It’s been over four years since I first spotted her in a tavern and then had to keep staring—and that hasn’t changed a damn bit. She’s up at the bar, looking so fucking pretty…but not a bit vulnerable.
She catches sight of me in the mirror behind the shelves of liquor, and spins on her stool, her emerald eyes shining and her smile bright. Then she brings me in with a crook of her finger.
I push in close, dropping a kiss to her mouth. “I missed you, angel.”
“I missed you, too,” she says softly, though it’s only been a few hours since we last saw each other, when her last class of the day ended and I finished up the final coaching session at the gym that me and a few of the other brothers own. I made enough of a reputation for myself fighting in the biker circuit that the training slots are always filled up, and I’m enjoying the hell out of it. But there’s always a Maxine-sized hole in me when I’m not with her.