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)
When he returned to his sled that day after dealing with the Twisted Souls, Taryn refused to meet his eyes and Bolt’s ol’ lady gave him a “good luck” look.
Once he swung his leg over his sled and started it, he told her to hang on and waited for her to do so.
She didn’t.
With his patience close to snapping, he finally grabbed her arms and wrapped them around him. “Hang the fuck on.”
Not only was she non-responsive, he detected a slight tremble. Setting his jaw, he took off, but not before wondering if Taryn was now afraid of him after seeing what he and his brothers were capable of.
He knew by not taking her back to The Castle and letting his brothers handle the situation, it was a risk. He also didn’t want to hide who the Kings were.
Her reaction also proved it was for the best that she wasn’t sticking around long-term. She wouldn’t be able to handle their lifestyle.
They weren’t fucking choir boys. Or Boy Scouts. They were goddamn one-percenters. They were not a club trying to go legit. They liked their lifestyle and wanted to keep it that way. They made good scratch, they had each other’s backs, and lived life however the fuck they wanted.
It was as perfect as it could fucking get.
Later that night, when she locked him out of his own damn room, all she said through the bedroom door was that she needed time to process what the Kings did to those other bikers.
He got it. For her, what happened had to be eye-opening.
For the Kings, it was everyday life.
They protected what was theirs. Period. If they didn’t, they risked losing it all.
Guaranteed that was never going to fucking happen. Every last damn King would need to be wiped off the Earth first.
Despite her being bent out of shape over the incident, she had no problem continuing to use their commercial kitchen to record videos, do live streams, and meal prep. She had Shit Stain running all over fucking creation delivering them.
Apparently, the email Taryn had sent out to her client base announcing the new venture had been effective. She had a hard time keeping up with orders since they were rolling in at a rapid rate.
Stone had a feeling that business would end up bringing in more scratch than her being a private chef. Hell, she even found someone to create a website for customers to order and customize meals. Stone took that as a sign she might be sticking in the area, despite her ex soon being on the loose.
With what her side business was already bringing in, Outlaw, their treasurer, was as happy as a pig in shit, even with that “measly” ten percent cut. It was another easy source of income to help keep the club’s coffers full. Stone couldn’t forget it also kept their guts full. Not only for him and his daughter, but all his brothers, too.
That cut of her business was their only legit income source. Not that they were letting Uncle fucking Sam know about that one, either.
Tonight, Stone was done with Wren hogging his side of the bed. He was reclaiming it. If Taryn couldn’t deal with it, then her son could go back to sleeping on the top bunk in Sunny’s room and she could take the damn couch.
But it wasn’t only the bed situation bothering him. It was the fucking silence. He never knew it could cut so damn deep.
Worse, according to the call she got from her attorney, Vic the Dick was to be released in only two days. Once he was, Stone wanted to stick as close as fucking possible to Taryn until that fucker was dealt with.
If she didn’t like the way they dealt with the Twisted Souls, she’d probably hate the way he dealt with her ex even more.
Maybe it would be better if the fucker simply had an “accident.”
A wet nose nudged his hand, but Thor didn’t wait for Stone’s attention. Instead, the dog immediately laid down nearby with a groan and a loud yawn.
If Thor was in the vicinity, that meant so was his owner.
“Dickhead,” Ogre greeted.
“Cocksucker,” Stone greeted back. He pointed at Thor. “Dog acts like he got it fuckin’ rough. Why’s he yawnin’ when he ain’t done shit today ‘cept sleep and take those massive shits?”
“Takin’ a massive shit’s hard fuckin’ work. Also probably tired from pissin’ on your sled tire,” Ogre said with all seriousness.
“Gonna grab your favorite Sturgis shirt to clean it off, then.”
“Ain’t gonna be the first time one of my shirts got pissed on. Also ain’t gonna be the last.”
With a soft snort, Stone shook his head.
Ogre glanced across the cafeteria to the kitchen. “Still ain’t talkin’ to you?”
“Fuck no,” Stone grumbled.
“Normally would say that’s a fuckin’ blessin’ since it’s hard to get some of these bitches to shut the fuck up. But seems like it’s botherin’ you.”