Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 70004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
I wrinkled my nose. “That would require me to go into town, and I try not to do that very often.”
Though I knew that I would never be looked for, thanks to Apollo matching the dead man’s DNA to “my” DNA that was now on file, it was still a really hard habit to break.
Apollo had done that for all of us he’d broken out of prison.
He’d given us new names and identities. He’d made it to where no one would ever look for us again.
Hell, for Odin, he’d even gone as far as to get the man plastic surgery to remove a few distinguishing facial features.
He’d found us a town run by bikers that had vouched that we’d been there for years—though I hadn’t joined the club like the others had. Too much authority gave me hives, and I’d never give anyone else control over anything I said or did ever again.
“But you’ll go to that stupid country club?” he asked.
I scoffed. “The only reason I go there is because I got that free membership with work. And they’re discreet. I get four free beers a week. Plus, they leave me the hell alone.”
Plus, the club was owned by one of the Dixie Wardens MC club members. I knew it was safe to be there, even if I hadn’t joined their club.
“Good choice going there,” he mused. “They’re bound by a hundred bylaws. Plus, Jawbone is where all the rich, hoity-toity people come to ski, and that country club you like to frequent is only a couple of miles away if you ski there. Did you know the president came there to play golf this year?”
Actually, I had.
I’d heard about his plans, and I’d been very careful about staying out of town for the week leading up to his arrival, and the week after.
I wouldn’t look the same as I had when I’d gone into prison. My face was darker. My hair had gone from a buzz to longer and “Very Uncle Jessie” according to my sister. My beard, however, was the newest addition to hide my identity.
Which I fucking hated.
I was not a fan of a beard.
Goatee? Yes. Mustache? Also yes.
Beard? No.
I felt like I was playing dress-up.
“Yeah, I knew,” I said. “Only went to work and home for a month. I was living off the Beanie Weenies you stocked my pantry with last year.”
He chuckled. “That was a gag. Your sister said you hated them.”
I grunted. “I used to. I thought they were the worst meal that you could ever be fed, but then I went to prison for years, and I realized that there are a lot worse things.”
Apollo grunted. “I’m going to text this lady’s information. You want me to contact her, or do you think you can handle that?”
I grunted again. “I’ll do it.”
“Look at you, growing up so fast,” Apollo drawled.
“Fuck off, man.” I paused. “How’s my sister?”
Apollo’s voice changed when he talked about Dru.
I was happy that Dru found someone who loved her the way that she deserved.
If anyone deserved that kind of love, it would be her.
She’d spent her life always second best to my other sister, Daniella.
Our parents had always chosen Daniella over either one of us. But it was Dru who had to put up with her shit on her own after I was incarcerated.
“She’s great, man,” he said. “Currently napping on the couch.”
“She’s drooling, isn’t she?”
“I’ll never tell.”
I laughed. “The fact that you said I’ll never tell and not no means she’s drooling up a storm. Send me a picture.”
“She’ll kill me.”
I chuckled. “You’ll make it up to her.”
Apollo’s loaded drawl made me want to hurl. “Oh, I’ll always make it up to her.”
“Thanks, Apollo.”
That “thanks” was for a lot of things, which he knew.
He’d done a lot for me.
He’d broken me out of prison and given me a life again, yes.
But seeing my sister drooling on a couch with a small smile on her face? That was what I really wanted to see.
Her happy.
That was all that mattered.
Three
When doctors deliver a big baby, they should take a picture with it like a fish.
—Mable to Cody
Mable
“Hello, Ms. Mable. What’d you bring us for breakfast today?”
I walked into the huge room of blue-collar workers, and didn’t feel a single ounce of worry.
These men were the best of the best.
They would protect me with their lives.
There were about twenty huge, hairy, muscular, not-so-muscular, rough and somewhat scary men waiting for me at the door.
I pointed at the car. “There are three more huge bags in the car.”
I wasn’t sure how it’d turned into my job to cook for these crazy men once a week, but it was turning out to be a hella lucrative business for me.
In the beginning, it’d started out as me just sharing a few cookies with the crew when I had them to spare.