Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 107118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Sia’s mouth opened and closed, finding no fucking words. When she walked past me, clearly in a fucking huff, I smiled. Bitch didn’t hate bikers at all. She loved Styx and Ky; I’d seen her with them. And she liked me, I knew it. And Hush, she found fascinating. She hated her poppa. That was it.
But then, from what I’d heard of the old VP, who fucking wouldn’t?
*****
Hush came into the house as Sia was making food. He looked down at me making myself real fucking comfortable on the couch, hands behind my head and my legs kicked up onto the arm. “Hush.” I lowered an arm to tap my Stetson. “All good?”
Hush nodded. His eyes found Sia. She was looking at him from her place at the stove. “Hey, Hush.” She pointed at the food. “Food’s almost done.”
“I ain’t hungry,” he announced, and Sia’s smile quickly fell.
I stood up and took hold of his arm. “You need to eat.” I glared into his eyes. He knew why I was saying that, and I was fucking right. He went to argue, but he had no fucking argument to give.
Instead he glanced at Sia and said, “Merci.”
I pointed at the table, and Hush sat down. He ran his hand over his stubbled cheeks. Sia placed a glass of water before him. “Thank you,” he muttered, before draining the glass.
Sia placed the steak and beans before us and sat down herself. “Looks good, cher,” I said, rubbing my hands together. Hush started digging in.
“So,” Sia said, looking right at Hush. “How did the bike run?”
Hush swallowed. “It’s a good bike.”
The brother didn’t say shit-all else. I rolled my eyes, and then grinned at Sia. “He rides well now, cher, but you should have seen him when he first tried.” Hush’s blue eyes fixed on mine. His jaw tensed. I gave zero fucks.
“What happened?” Sia looked relieved that I was fucking talking.
I sat back in my seat. “Me and Hush got shitfaced one night. We were eighteen and walking around New Orleans.” I left out the fact that we were living on the streets. Hush would kill me if I dared include any of that shit. His eyes flared as he glared at me, my warning to keep the fucking story simple. I slapped my hand down on his shoulder. “We walked past a biker bar, and Hush here, drunk as fuck on whiskey”—I tilted my head to one side—“or was it Slippery Nipples?”
“Asshole,” Hush said, shaking his head. Sia was smiling. I guessed more at the fact that Hush had finally opened his fucking mouth around her than at my joke.
“Fine, whiskey. Anyway, he saw a row of bikes out front. Thinking, in his inebriated state, that an old Harley he was obsessed with would be good to ride, he went straight over to it. The keys were still in the ignition.” I flashed a grin at Hush. “Should have been our first sign not to take it. The bike had keys in the ignition but it was untouched.”
“Whose was it?” Sia asked.
I held up my hand for her to wait to find that out. “Hush here backs it out of the parking spot and then kicks it to start.” I started laughing my ass off. “He only made it about twenty yards before he lost control and smashed that fucker into the road.” Hush finished the last of his steak and sat back in his seat. He kept his eyes on the tabletop as I continued talking. Sia kept her eyes on him. I watched them both. “I ran to where he was getting off the ground, then the doors of the bar slammed open and a mass of brothers in cuts came barreling out.”
“The New Orleans Hangmen?” Sia asked.
“The very same.” I saw Hush’s lip lift at the corner, obviously remembering that day. “Turned out the bike belonged to Ox, the old prez.” I shook my head at the memory. “But Hush here, instead of being intimidated, got to his feet and went toe to toe with Ox, who was about to kill us.”
“And you?” Sia asked.
I went to reply, but Hush said, “He stood beside me. Ready to fight too.”
I shrugged. “Couldn’t leave my brother to be killed. Figured getting killed by a biker would be a fucking cool-ass way to go out.” Hush smirked. “But then Ox looked down at us, filthy and fucking filled with arrogance, and laughed. Hush swung, cracked the old man across the jaw . . . and two hours later we were the newest prospects of the New Orleans chapter. Ox gave us a home. A purpose. A fucking life.” I laughed, chest tightening at the memory of those days. “Owe him everything.”
Sia was smiling big at the story. “I love that,” Sia said. Hush lowered his eyes and got to his feet.