Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
I push those thoughts aside as I look around. I can feel the tension in the room, I’m just choosing to ignore it. The men are all staring at me. I see the unease, distrust, and even suspicion in their eyes.
“This is bullshit,” a man mutters, never taking his eyes off of me. I look over at him, my face hard.
“Shut up, Cowboy. We voted. It’s done,” C barks.
“He doesn’t look like he could defend himself—let alone the club,” Cowboy huffs.
I shake my head. It’s not like I haven’t heard that. I stand six-foot. That’s tall, but there are quite a few men in this life taller. I have muscles, but my body tends to look lean. I keep a clean-cut look, my black hair cut short and my face clean shaven. I’m always underestimated. I like that. I’m a killer they never see coming. This kind of bullshit gets annoying though.
I take off the cut that C sent out to me, tossing it on the table.
“You want to challenge for the position you already lost? If so, cart your ass up here and see if you can back your fucking mouth up,” I growl. It has been a long few days of travel and I’m too damn tired for this shit. I pulled into a two-bit motel just on the outskirts of the town about an hour ago, unloaded my bike out of the back of the trailer, took a shower and grabbed a ham sandwich out of a gas station and headed here. The only thing I really want to do right now is go to sleep. I just wanted to check things out before that happened. I should have known that things wouldn’t go easy.
Cowboy slowly rises before walking over to me. He has shaggy black hair, and a scar along the side of his neck. The man is a couple inches taller, and a little bit wider. It’ll be a good fight between us, but I don’t doubt that I can take him at all. I made my living fighting underground. I still do it occasionally when I need to blow off steam. I can handle myself well, and there’s a reason that I was in high demand back in Colorado. I made the owner of the fights a hell of a lot of money—not to mention myself.
“I don’t like leaving my club in the hands of an outsider,” he all but snarls.
“Your brothers apparently didn’t trust you enough to put it in your hands, so I don’t really give a fuck. I’m not here to protect your feelings. I’m definitely not here to babysit members who are butt-hurt. So, now’s your chance. Challenge me if you think you can take me. I don’t give a fuck. What I won’t do is take your disrespect. Attitudes like yours make a club weak. I think if anything shows we don’t need that, it’s the run-in this club just weathered with the War Kings.”
“The club has already spoken. You need to know I’ll be watching you closely though. I won’t allow you to destroy what my brother built.”
I appraise him differently. Something about the tone Cowboy used when he said brother was different. “Brother?” I question, wondering if he meant more than just a brother in the club.
“We were raised in the same foster home,” Cowboy explains.
Now I can see why he wanted to take his brother’s place and why he resented my presence. That, however, doesn’t mean I can allow anymore disrespect. “I get you’re grieving and hurting, probably more than the rest of the club. What you need to understand is that I want to bring this club together, but I will not tolerate being disrespected. If you don’t want me here, be a man and challenge me. I’ll face any of you. What I won’t do is allow you to question and undermine me every fucking second that I’m around you.”
“Still making friends quickly,” C mutters, a cocky smile on his lips. “Where’s Scorpion?”
“He’ll be here tomorrow. His old lady didn’t want to move.”
“Shit. Is he going to back out?”
“Nah. Trish is a piece of shit. She’s part of the reason he’s ready to move. He’ll be here,” I answer, not going into detail. Scorpion’s story is his own. It’s also messy as hell. I doubt he’d want me to spread it around.
“Fair enough. Want me to show you around?”
“Honestly it has been a long as hell trip and I’m killed. I checked into a fleabag joint on the outskirts of town. I’m going back there and crashing. We can deal with the rest of the shit after I get some sleep.”
“Man, you got a room here. No sense in staying in that place. We don’t need fucking bedbugs—and that place is full of them. Skeeter brought them in on us once and we didn’t think we’d ever get rid of them.”