Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 169013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 845(@200wpm)___ 676(@250wpm)___ 563(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 845(@200wpm)___ 676(@250wpm)___ 563(@300wpm)
I let my attention skate over our new compound.
It was ten acres surrounded by twelve-foot walls. Tucked at the edge of the woods on the outskirts of Crimson Creek, my motorcycle club was named after my hometown. A town I’d left at sixteen and had just returned to.
Drawn here, I guess.
By the history. The loss. The ghosts that remained.
The front building housed our main legal gig.
An autobody shop.
The skill was something I learned when I was nothing but a kid.
A semblance of peace found when I took the mangled and broken and made it whole again.
Figured it was a paradoxical sort of thing. A balance to the destruction I caused.
Forging metal into something beautiful while my hands were stained crimson red.
Make no mistake, I wore that truth as proudly as I wore the Crimson Crows patch on my back, but I craved the respite, too. When, for a few moments, the weight I carried didn’t feel like it would crush me.
Our clubhouse was on the left side of the property, tucked out of sight from the everyday patrons, though plenty had come gawking, thinking they were going to sneak a peek at the violent MC that had rolled into town.
Yeah, we’d come with a reputation.
Hidden deep in the massive trees in the deepest recesses of our land were two houses. One was reserved for my second in command, Trevan, and the other for my family.
My guts tangled and coiled.
In the end? They were the only thing that truly mattered. They were the reason I did everything.
The sound of a high-pitched engine carried on the rustle of the trees, a car screaming a path down the two-lane road.
My twisted guts coiled up tighter, and I gritted my teeth as I watched the yellow sedan come into view, a blazing blip of color blinking through the forest.
“Here we go,” Trevan rumbled under his breath.
The car slowed to make the left onto the gravel drive, and it came through the large gate that sat wide open as if everyone were welcome when it was half my crew’s job to make sure the ones who didn’t belong here never got through.
Gravel crunched beneath the turning of the tires as the Honda came to a stop in front of me and Trevan.
A flurry of energy radiated from it.
Chaos.
Rage.
Confusion.
I could taste each one of them the same as I could taste the clean, fresh woods on my tongue as I inhaled a steeling breath.
A brunette was in the passenger seat, shifted toward the driver, shouting something that I couldn’t quite make out.
Then she threw open the door and jumped from her seat, slamming the door shut behind her.
She looked like autumn riding in on a hurricane.
Long locks of hair threaded with strands the color of harvest leaves blowing around her. Golds and reds and browns, the shade of freshly whittled bark on a tree.
Eyes the same tumbled hue, though they glowed the brightest flames.
Not to mention a body that could incite a fucking riot.
All legs and tits and curves.
She sent me a glare that could decimate an entire village right before she spat, “You.”
This woman was a wildfire.
And standing there, maybe I somehow knew she was going to burn the whole place down.
TWO
BRINLEY
Three Hours Earlier
“You can’t be serious.” I chased behind my younger brother as he stormed down the hall and into my room.
“I’m very fucking serious,” he grunted as he ducked into my closet and pulled my suitcase from the back and tossed it onto my bed.
With a huff, I stopped in the doorway and crossed my arms over my chest. “Well, I’m not doing whatever this nonsense is you’re asking me to do.”
I was no stranger to cleaning up Dereck’s messes. They tended to be careless and bountiful.
But this one?
Not a chance.
“Told you I owe this guy a favor, and he called it in,” he said like that answered every single one of my questions. The most he’d given me was a grunt of the man’s name.
Dereck unzipped the suitcase, flung it open, then turned his back on me as he clomped over to my dresser.
He might have been trying to act casual, but I knew him better than anyone, which meant I knew he was lying.
“A favor?” I challenged, disbelief in my voice.
“Yup,” he grunted back as he snatched a giant pile of shirts from a drawer then turned and dumped them into the suitcase with total disregard for what I was supposed to pair them with.
As if that was my biggest problem with all of this.
“I have a job, Dereck. I can’t just leave.”
“You’re going to have to put in for vacation or sick time.”
Was he serious?
Worry threaded with the anger. “What, do you owe him money or something?”
Irritation billowed up. It was the typical culprit. Dereck getting himself in deep at every turn.