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)
King looks a little queasy at the thought.
Shrapnel's hand has found my butt, resting lightly through my dress. I'm sure they're going to make a big number of taking it off me, and I'm sure I'm going to love it.
“Like most of the old ladies, you didn't choose to come find the Screaming Eagles.” His voice seems even a little more gravelly than usual. He's not actually touched, is he? “Shit happens, and around here, it seems to happen a lot. Ten years, ten ladies. It's starting to feel like a fucking pattern. So again, being surprised, that's on me. I should've expected someone would show up soon. Anyway, I'm not one for long speeches, even if most of you assholes think I'm too fond of my own voice, so I'm gonna keep this short and to the point.”
Jupiter trots over, tail wagging and looking for attention. I give him a scratch behind the ear and he flops to the floor.
“Alright, Rory, you've picked out three of my men, through no fault of your own. Of all the ones you could've picked, they're not the worst. Honorable, strong, dedicated. And most importantly, they seem to be fucking head over heels for you, and I have learned by now that there's fuck-all I can do about that. But life in an MC is hard. It's dangerous, as you already know. It's unreliable, and you never know if your man is gonna come home that night, or never again. Their brotherhood will always come first, and an old lady needs to understand that. The club is what holds us all together, and if a link is weak, the whole fucking chain comes apart. And an old lady is another link in that chain, expected to do her part when the club calls for her man to do his duty. We don't do this lightly, but we do it if we have to.”
That intense eye fixes on me, judging me right here, right now, making sure that I understand the implications of what I'm about to do. What exactly I'm taking on. Am I nervous? Of course, but even if I haven't gone through all of these things point by point, I understand them. I understand the guys. And they're worth it.
“In return, your men will be loyal. Steadfast. Present. They will pick you up when you fall and carry you until you're able to walk again. They will keep you as safe as is possible in the fucked world that we live in. And I hope you understand how big that is, because many can't or won't do that. Not like my boys do. And if they ever give you shit, you come to me and I'll fucking straighten them out. Is this really what you want?”
A biker 'I do' isn't like most. But it's just as binding and meaningful. And I've thought this through. “It's what I want.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Really? All three of them? You're sure?”
I can't even tell if he's serious for a moment, the question comes so earnestly, like he’s honestly baffled, but then laughter spreads around the crowd. From feeling very solemn, the weight of the moment lifts and I smile. “Yes, all three of them.”
“Alright. Your funeral. Boys!” He snaps the last word so hard and loud that Shrapnel actually stands at attention before he relaxes. “Rory says she wants all of you. I say she's crazy, but that seems to be the way of everyone around here, sooner or later. I just promised a lot of big things on your behalf, so I hope you were paying attention. I expect all three of you fuckers to keep her safe, to keep her happy, and to keep her satisfied. And if she ever comes complaining to me, I'm gonna toss the three of you in the Pit and have the boys work you over. Are you all willing to take on that responsibility?”
“Yes.” Bull responds with enough gravity to pull the Moon out of its orbit.
“Always,” Diesel says, squeezing me closer to him.
“Fuck yeah.” Shrapnel squeezes my butt again, but he also kisses the top of my head. “No getting rid of us now.”
Eagle-eye turns away from us and faces the rest of the club. “Then let it be known that Rory's the old lady of Bull, Diesel and Shrapnel. She belongs to them, and anyone who tries to fuck around with her, is gonna have to answer to them, to me, and the whole rest of the fucking club. Is that fucking clear?”
A cheer goes up that echoes off the high ceilings of the common room.
“Good. Chef, get me a beer.” He looks over his shoulder at us. “You still here? Go fuck or whatever the fuck it is you kids do afterwards.”
Well, he doesn’t have to ask us twice.