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)
Not even the pigs.
He and his brothers were all fucking pros when it came to getting in and out of a situation without getting caught. On the slim fucking chance anyone was nabbed, then they knew better than to tie the crime to the club.
If they did…
Yeah, no one fucking did. They all knew the consequences after that prison or jail door opened again. If they even made it out still breathing.
A lot of his brothers, including Stone, still had connections on the inside in various facilities around the state. Prison was also a great place to recruit new prospects since some ex-cons didn’t have a place to land after doing their bid. The Kings gave them one in exchange for their loyalty. And that loyalty meant keeping their fucking traps shut whenever they found themselves sporting metal bracelets.
First rule of getting pinched: Don’t say shit except to demand an attorney.
Second rule: Don’t say shit until the club attorney—kept on retainer for good reason—arrived at the location they were being detained.
Even then, don’t say shit. The attorney was paid a goddamn fortune to flap his gums.
They drilled that into every new prospect’s gray matter.
Once the prospects moved everything Taryn would need into the kitchen—even some of her shit from the storage trailer—he asked her what else she’d need and she happily gave him a long list.
But what mattered to Taryn wasn’t what mattered to him. To Stone, the main benefit of having her recording at The Castle was that someone would always be around to keep an eye on her.
After a couple of the club girls had done the grocery shopping for Taryn, she cooked a huge meal for everyone last night.
While scarfing down the food, Stone swore his brothers all shot loads in their pants. No one had ever cooked anything that good in the club’s kitchen before. The pasta with homemade fucking meatballs was shoveled into their pie holes like they hadn’t eaten in a goddamn week.
While Stone agreed the food was good, in truth, most of them were probably stoned as fuck and had the munchies.
Today, she was back in the kitchen with a list of recipes she wanted to record to add content to her channel. The smell alone made Stone’s mouth water. No fucking surprise, his brothers were circling like a pack of starving dogs, just waiting for her to toss them scraps.
Yeah, he doubted she’d ever be alone while doing her thing here at the clubhouse. That peace of mind also meant Stone could go make some scratch later. He had two collection jobs to do today down in Lancaster County for a loan shark they worked with on the regular.
Bottom line: borrow money from a sketchy motherfucker and not pay it back? Better have that cash in your fucking pocket when Stone or one of his brothers showed up to collect what was owed and you hadn’t bothered to pay back.
They got the money? They might only get a few broken fingers as a late fee.
They don’t?
Yeah, a few broken fingers would be the least of their worries. They might be missing those fingers. Or some teeth. Even a whole hand. It all depended on the amount owed and what the loan shark wanted in “interest.”
Doing collections was one of his favorite things to do. Assholes desperate enough to borrow money from an “illegal banker” never went to the cops. No matter how many broken bones or severed digits they earned for not making their loan payments in a timely manner.
Excuses didn’t work for loan sharks. They didn’t give a fuck what the issue was, they just wanted their fucking money. Of course with an inflated amount of interest. It pissed the lender off even more when they had to lose a cut of that scratch to the Kings.
Stone’s MC occasionally did a little loan sharking of their own, but only with people they knew could make payments. Charging an insane amount of interest was easy scratch for the club.
He needed to leave soon to get those jobs done but he had to wait on Taryn to finish putting her shit away after recording the last video on her list. They had come directly to the clubhouse in her Honda after dropping the kids off at school this morning. Tomorrow, he’d let her drive herself so he could go do his thing while she did hers.
But that was tomorrow. Today, he wanted to be close enough to keep an eye on her, but not up her ass. So he leaned back just inside the propped-open cafeteria doors with a knee bent and a boot planted on the wall. Taking a long drag on his cigarette, he caught glimpses of her behind the school’s former serving line, cleaning up and putting shit away.
By the time he finished his smoke and had crushed it under his boot, she appeared from the kitchen and headed in his direction with a smile filling her face and a spring to her step.