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)
Taryn swallowed her gasp. Telling this tale had to be painful for him.
“Good thing the Warriors were really dumb motherfuckers and dumped him there ‘stead of some random spot or the Kings would’ve had no fuckin’ clue who offed him. One of our brothers saw them takin’ off, raised the alarm, and we fuckin’ chased their asses.”
He paused and stared off to the side as if reliving a memory. After a few seconds, his dark brown eyes turned back to her.
“We made sure that night those six motherfuckin’ Warriors would never be seen again. Occasionally, we’d spot some of those nomads afterward, but never in our territory. After a while, their numbers mysteriously seemed to thin. Then they stopped showin’ up to rallies and poker runs, to the big bike weeks, like Sturgis and Daytona. Eventually, they just fuckin’ vanished. Nobody knew what the fuck happened to them. Figured those assholes finally stepped on the wrong toes. Not sure whose, but if I knew, woulda wanted in on that farewell party. Unfortunately, didn’t get an invite. If I ever find out who wiped those fuckers off the Earth, gonna buy ‘em a fuckin’ beer. Hell, a keg. Or even a whole hijacked beer truck. But that’s one reason we don’t tolerate other clubs disrespectin’ our territory. Handlin’ that shit with a quickness makes a fuckin’ statement. You don’t respect us, we certainly ain’t gonna respect you. You fuck with us, we’re gonna fuck you a lot harder. ‘Cause one lesson we always teach is nobody…absolutely nobody fucks with the Kings.”
Holy shit. That was a lot for her to take in. While her heart ached for his loss, that didn’t make accepting how the Kings handled Twisted Souls any easier. “I’m sorry about what happened to your brother, but I can’t begin to comprehend why people have to hate each other. Be violent with each other. Hurt each other. For what? It’s all so senseless. Someone hates another simply because of a patch of ground. Or the color of their skin. Or religious beliefs. Or sexual orientation. Or the cut they wear on their back.” Or because their wife divorced them, filed for full custody and, apparently, unreasonably expected a father to help support his own child.
“Human nature, babe. Comes down to a reaction to an action. Like that day your motherfuckin’ ex beatin’ the snot outta you. No way to stop him ‘cept by doin’ the same to him. That’s fuckin’ reality. He wasn’t gonna stop if I asked him nicely, even if added a goddamn ‘pretty please’ to that request. The man was seein’ red. You were the target and he was the high-capacity bullet.”
Of course, she missed everything that happened while she was knocked out cold, but she did see the results once she came to. Not to mention, during Vic’s trial, the very graphic photos of what he looked like afterward. Clearly, her ex-husband wasn’t the only one seeing red that day.
No, Stone had lost his temper as badly as Vic.
The bottom line was, Stone didn’t get arrested for helping her. He got arrested for taking it past the point where Vic was no longer a threat. If he had stopped “beating the snot” out of Vic once Taryn was safe, then he most likely would’ve been able to walk away and not have been stuck in prison for thirteen months.
Despite that, she was grateful for what Stone did that day. Vic might have killed her. Might have permanently taken Wren’s mother away from him. Then in the end, when Vic was arrested for murder, their son would’ve ended up an orphan. Or, at best, raised by Taryn’s mother.
That possibility churned her stomach. She followed her instinct to head over to the window to check on Wren. She watched her six-year-old son smiling and laughing without a care in the world as he climbed all over the playset.
He had no idea what danger loomed.
But then, neither did Taryn.
Would Vic get out and leave them alone? Or would he be gunning for her, ready to repeat what happened at the Shoppes of Susquehanna? To “teach” her a lesson.
She closed her eyes and hugged her own waist.
Her life was a damn mess right now and she wasn’t sure how to clean it up. Any decision she made could make it even messier.
Taryn groaned when a nursery rhyme popped into her head. Part of one anyway. One she used to sing to Wren while wiggling his fingers and toes when he was a baby.
Eeny, meeny, miny, moe…
Should I stay or should I go?
The answer was clear. She had already decided to stay and just make the most of it by surviving.
Staying at least gave her a fighting chance. Or so she hoped.
Right now she was her son’s sole provider. She needed to focus on her business so she could continue to keep Wren safe, happy, and healthy.