Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 141464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
“Progress is good,” Rock says. “We ask a lot of prospects.”
“Unbunch your boxers,” Hustler mutters at Suds. “He ain’t gettin’ a full cut. But he takes risks like the rest of us—oughta get something for that.”
“Pretty sure all the free pussy is the reward,” Eazy mutters, then side-eyes Z. “Just kiddin’, Prez. I’m cool.”
“Good.” Z flicks a hand, passing the floor back to Rock.
“Teller, share your news,” Rock says.
Teller gives us all a shit-eating grin. “Same deal. Bonuses will hit by the end of the week.” His smug smile slips into something more serious but almost hesitant. “The U.S. market’s volatile right now, so I’m looking to reduce our risk by diversifying into some international positions. Nothing wild, just a few high-growth opportunities I think we’ve been overlooking.”
He glances around, picking up on the blank stares and fading attention, then tacks on quickly, “If you want to go over the charts after church, come find me.”
Sparky lifts a hand, his eyes still bloodshot but his voice firm. “You’re not talking about investing our money in places that use child labor, fund terrorism, or disappear journalists, then gaslight the world about human rights concerns, are you?”
A beat of silence settles over the table.
Teller’s grin fades. His voice drops, low and steady. “No. I’m not touching anything shady. Just a few sectors overseas—clean energy, medical tech. Stuff like that.”
“It’s all hella shady though, isn’t it?” Dex says.
Rock rubs his fingers over his forehead, a clear sign he’d like us to wrap it the fuck up.
“To some degree, sure,” Teller agrees. “Doesn’t mean I don’t do what I can to minimize harm.” He flashes a quick, easy smile. “But we gotta eat too.”
And buy hundred-thousand-dollar SUVs.
Nope, definitely don’t add that to the conversation.
“Thanks, Teller,” Sparky says.
“I can give you a list, if you want,” Teller offers. “You might be more plugged into causes I’m not aware of. If there’s something specific you’re opposed to, let me know. I can adjust.”
“Jesus Christ,” Suds mutters. “Hippie Harry over here will have you investing in energy crystals and goat Pilates.”
Z narrows his gaze. “It’s a valid concern these days.”
Sparky lifts his chin at Z.
“Any other questions?” Rock asks in a tone that suggests the answer better be no.
Eazy raises his hand and swivels his head between Z and Rock. “This mean we gotta kick up more money to National?”
The strangest hush falls over the table. No, more specifically Rock’s end of the table. It’s brief but noticeable. To me anyway.
I’ve never wanted to be involved in whatever the fuck it is the treasurer does, but knowing Priest, I bet he has all kinds of questions whenever a charter sends National more money than usual. Downstate’s never had that problem before. When Sway was our president, we were bleeding money, not gettin’ bonuses.
But dealing with National is Teller’s problem, and now Hustler’s too. Not mine.
After a beat, Teller leans forward, voice smooth as ever. “Yup, we kick up the normal percentage. Mark it down as income.”
Eazy frowns. “That don’t seem right, since you’re the one doin’ all the…” He waves his fingers like he’s casting a spell. “Investing wizardry.”
“Great.” Z claps his hands. “When Rock gets promoted to national prez, you’ll be the first one I nominate to be on the committee to change the bylaws.”
Everyone chuckles. Even Rock.
“Whoa.” Rav throws out his arms, waving like he’s guiding a 747 in for a landing. “Rock, you’re not threatening to gut him for suggesting you’ll be national prez?”
Grinder’s normally grumpy mug twists into something closer to savage pride. “Someone must be making peace with his upcoming promotion.”
“Knock it off,” Rock growls. “I’m not making peace with shit. Priest isn’t retiring any time soon.”
“That we know of,” Wrath says.
“Yet,” Dex adds, not missing a beat.
Z raps his knuckles on the table, dragging our focus away from Rock. “Any other questions?”
I’m itching to ask how large our bonuses will be. Enough to buy a new car? Or enough to buy a tank of gas for my current vehicle? Some details would be nice. But I’m not eager to prolong church today to satisfy my curiosity.
When no one bites, Rock turns toward Wrath. “How do you want to handle Whisper’s funeral?”
Wrath leans back, brow furrowed. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot.”
“I thought I smelled smoke,” Murphy mutters.
Teller elbows him in the ribs.
Ignoring their antics, Wrath continues. “Wolf Knights were friends of the club for years. At least a few of us need to be there to pay our respects.” He thumps his palm against his chest. “As much as I didn’t get along with Whisper in the end, I need to be there to remind the Wolf Knights their visit has an expiration date.”
“Fuck yeah, it does,” Z mutters.
“But,” Wrath continues, “We need to walk a fine line between showing our respect and whipping out our dicks to remind the Wolf Knights that Lost Kings run Slater County now.”