Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 110721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
“You weren’t lying about the bunk beds. She already has one.”
“Yeah. Hate ‘em ‘cause they remind me of whenever I’m in the joint, but got it in case one of her friends wants to spend the night.”
Taryn stood in the center of the room, slowly turning in a circle to take it all in. It might be tight for two kids, but it could work temporarily. Sunny might hate sharing her room but Wren would probably love it. In the past, he had bugged her for a sibling. Maybe this would get it out of his system and he’d never ask again.
She could hope, anyway.
“Does that happen often?” If she had a lot of sleepovers, she’d need to find other accommodations for her son during those times. Taryn doubted the girls would want Wren to join them.
“Never.”
She spun to face him, only to find him with one hand glued to his hip as he stared out the window. “She’s never had friends over?”
He turned, his expression a blank mask. “Some of my brothers’ nut nuggets will come swim but none of the asshole parents from her school will let their kids come over.”
Nut nuggets? She never heard that crass term used for children. Rugrats, yes. Nut nuggets, no.
“Why not?”
He tugged on his cut.
Oh.
But wait… “Because you belong to a club?”
“Ain’t just any club.”
“Do you want to explain that? I thought it was a group of people who all owned motorcycles.”
“Not people. Men. Not any fuckin’ motorcycle, Harleys,” he corrected.
“Okay, the members all ride Harleys.” And, apparently, were all men.
“It’s a brotherhood. Ridin’ ain’t a hobby, it’s a lifestyle.”
“It still doesn’t explain why parents wouldn’t want their children hanging out with yours.” Alarm bells went off in her head. She was missing something here. Maybe something very important.
She stared at him. His countless tattoos. His leather cut. The way he beat down Vic. The women at their clubhouse. It was not a typical lifestyle but…
“How many of your club members have been arrested before?”
His nostrils flared as he considered her question. “Does it matter?”
“It could. How many?”
“All of ‘em.”
All of them? “Is that a requirement to join your brotherhood?”
“No.”
Her eyes flicked to the yellow diamond patch on his cut.
“What does that yellow diamond mean?”
“Means we live by our own damn rules.”
Chapter Six
Taryn pulled out her cell phone and quickly did a search on what the one percent patch meant in this situation. She should’ve done this after their conversation on Monday.
Better late than never, right?
Shit. Wrong.
She read out loud from one of the many search results. “‘The term one-percent originated in the 1940s when the American Motorcyclist Association stated that ninety-nine-percent of motorcyclists were law-abiding citizens, implying the remaining one-percent were outlaws.’”
When she leveled her gaze on him once more, he whispered, “Fuck.”
“Do you follow any laws?”
He pursed his lips and shut down his expression again before answering, “A few.”
A few. “I’m assuming that list is a lot shorter than the one with the laws you ignore.” She didn’t even wait for him to respond before posing another question she neglected to ask, “What do you do for a living? I’m sure chasing sunsets on a motorcycle doesn’t pay well.”
“Got a few businesses.”
Her eyebrows rose at that deflection. “The club or you?”
“I am the fuckin’ club,” he said with intensity while slapping his chest. “My brothers are the club. We are the fuckin’ club.”
“So, what businesses do the club own?” She had a feeling he wouldn’t be forthcoming with his answer or, on the slim chance he was, she wouldn’t like what he said.
“Got a garage and some tow trucks. We sell some parts. Also do some personal protection. A few collections here and there.”
The blood drained from her face. “Protection and collections?” It sounded like the Mafia. Or a…gang.
She narrowed her eyes on him.
“Protection’s exactly why you’re fuckin’ standin’ here.” He jabbed his finger toward the wood floor. “Offered it to you at no damn cost.”
Taryn could argue the fact it wouldn’t cost her. This decision could end up costing her a lot. Why was he getting so bent out of shape, anyway? “And the collection part?”
“People pay us to collect bad fuckin’ debts, that’s all.”
She doubted that was all. “I think it’s time for us to go.”
“Gotta show you your room first.”
“I don’t think I’m going to need it. While I appreciate the generous offer, I’ll have to pass. I’ll take my chances once Vic is released.”
His expression turned even harder and scarier. “The fuck you will. Fucker coulda killed you if I hadn’t stepped in.”
When she shook her head and turned to leave, he grabbed her arm and stopped her, then swung her around to face him. They now stood close enough she could see the dark gold flecks in his deep brown eyes.
“Don’t care if your baby bird don’t got a mother to raise him? You want that motherfucker raisin’ him instead?”