Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 77961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“Bull and Shrapnel are waiting for us at the clubhouse. There should be some food there, or we can ride out and grab something.”
The shower blissfully washes away the night, the hot water streaming over my face. I need to figure out my next move. My original plan had been to slip away from Dad at the airport and get on the first flight to anywhere before I contacted him about shutting down Hermes, but now I have no idea what to do. I don't even know if he’s alive.
“Have you seen anything on the news about the crash yet?” I ask Diesel after getting dressed.
I could turn on my phone and check, but it would be like turning on a giant ‘I’m here!’ sign and I don’t want to do that until I have to.
Assuming Dad made it.
My chest goes tight. He never understood how to connect with me on anything other than his own interests—mainly computers—but he’s still the only father I have. Hopefully Mason and Tim got him out of there. As harsh as it feels right now, there's nothing I can do either way.
I've got enough money in a private account to last me for a while, but not forever. God, if I could stay here for even a few more days, that'd make life a lot easier. And if I’m being honest with myself, I'm really not ready to be alone. Every time I let my mind drift, I'm watching flames erupt from the plane while people are fleeing. Diesel says they aren’t the good guys, and I’m not stupid. I know in the eyes of the law, they’re violent criminals, but I’ve seen them laugh, tease each other, and put their own lives on the line for me.
Good is relative. Dad donates a lot of his profits every year. That’s good. But he’s also responsible for Hermes, a program we created that straight up bypasses even the most advanced network security. He wants to use it to disrupt the status quo even if a lot of people get hurt in the process. That’s not so good.
Diesel checks his phone, scrolling and tapping the screen as he checks. “Not really, which is strange. It should be all over the news, but I bet Whittaker and the others are doing their best to keep it quiet.”
“So you think he made it?” I ask, trying to keep my voice curious, not desperate.
“If I had to bet I’d say yes, but he could be injured and they’re waiting to see how he does before making announcements. Do you have to work today?”
I shake my head.
Even though it isn't far, Diesel wants to take his motorcycle. Bull’s and Shrapnel’s are missing as well when we open the parking area. I manage to mount up the first try this time, and smile as I press my cheek to the back of his vest.
A couple of guys wave us through the massive gate, shirtless in the July heat, exposing their tattoos and how ripped they are. We pull into a courtyard in front of the looming warehouse with the huge club logo on the front. Beyond the warehouse, I get the impression there’s a whole little neighborhood hiding behind the walls. Complete with houses and a massive garage where men are working on their motorcycles. Bikers mill around the compound, going about their day. A lot of them have beers, even this early. There’s hardly a shirt in sight and more six-packs than the beer aisle at a supermarket.
Not that I'm looking when I've already got Diesel in front of me. Much.
Motorcycles are parked anywhere there’s space, but we ride right up to the front, stopping between two that I recognize as Bull and Shrapnel's. Diesel guides me up metal stairs and in through the heavy front door of the warehouse. I have absolutely no idea what to expect. Coming into the AC is nice, though. I fan my shirt as I follow him into what looks like a giant playroom for men.
The walls are painted black and covered with motorcycle paraphernalia. There's a giant Screaming Eagles MC logo on one of them, flanked by two American flags. Then there's a couple of pool tables, one of them in use. In back are some couches where three members are yelling at the football game on the big screen TV. An open area for… I don't know, dancing? Fighting? Push up competitions, for all I know. On one side there are booths kind of like a diner, where a couple of guys are nursing their beers, and on the other side, there's a bar where I recognize the backs of Bull and Shrapnel. Up along the wall on the far side of the room is a metal staircase that leads to a little platform with a door and big windows that overlook the whole common area. The blinds are drawn, though.