Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
“Trace said the spics got you.”
“Tried,” I said after a few seconds of silence. “Your boys chased them off.”
“You play football.” It wasn’t a question. “Trace said.” Looked like Trace had given everyone the rundown while Jay had been fixing me up.
“Tight end,” I said. “In high school. Just left. Graduated early, then got the fuck out.”
The guy nodded. “I’m a quarterback.” He stepped further into the room. He had no tattoos. But the kid was built and tall too. “A freshman.” He seemed more upmarket than me and the others here. Spoke better than Trace. Sure spoke better than my redneck ass. Didn’t seem like the rest of the folks here. And the kid sure as shit didn’t look like a freshman.
“I’m Tanner.” He put his hand out for me to shake.
Holding my ribs with one hand, I gave him my other. “Shane.”
“Tank, more like,” Trace said from behind Tanner. “You haven’t eaten in weeks yet you’re still that big? Fuck Shane—you’re Tank to us now.”
“And who is us?” I asked, my eyes going from Tanner to Trace. I knew they were white power or some shit. But I had no idea just who they were.
“Your new family.” Trace hooked his arm around Tanner’s shoulders, pulling him close like he’d done to me. “Brothers, Tank. Fucking brothers-in-arms.”
Chapter One
Tank
Five years later . . .
I grabbed the bag holding my stuff and moved to the back of the room to get dressed. The prison uniform fell to the floor, and I slipped on my jeans, shirt, and leather jacket—all of which were now too tight. Years of lifting weights in prison would do that to a guy.
“Sign here and here,” the guard instructed. After two signatures and a long walk down a hallway, I came to the door that promised my freedom. I rocked from side to side, my hands clenching. Because walking outta this fucking door after what Landry had ordered meant I was probably walking out only to get a bullet in my skull. I touched the scar on my head. The ridges were still rough and the fucker still stung.
Only the fact that I was a hard bastard who most didn’t dare fuck with had kept me from leaving this shithole in a wooden box.
The door creaked open, and I stepped out into the world.
Three years. Three years without freedom. Should have been a fuck-ton more, but all of us who went down that day knew we’d only be in there a few years max. Had to play the game so our Wizards could stay under the radar.
We should’ve all been serving twenty-five to life. But here I was, out in the fucking burning Texas sun after three years.
My boots crunched on the gravel as I made my way to the outer gate. The guard waited at his post, ready to release me back into the wild. My heart beat faster with every step. My hands curled into fists as I prepped for whatever would meet me on the other side of that iron. The brotherhood that had saved me and given me a life was no doubt about to take it away.
The bolt of the gate clanged, the handle turned, and the Texas heat smashed over my face to greet me. I stepped out of the gate, breath held for the gunshot, the knife, whatever the fuck it was that was waiting.
But I stopped dead when I saw a familiar truck parked up on the side of the road. My breath came out real fucking stuttered when I saw my best friend waiting beside it, arms crossed over his chest.
Tanner. Tanner fucking Ayers was the one who would be taking me out. I’d assumed he was still on tour. Was he back just for this?
I walked across the road. All the time Tanner didn’t move. His eyes were on me, right up until I stopped a few feet away. The only time they moved was to glance at the shank scar on my head. He was my best friend. My brother. My fucking family. But Tanner Ayers was the White Prince, the knight of the Ku Klux fucking Klan.
And, to him, I was a traitor.
“Didn’t expect you.” My voice sounded as though I’d swallowed a ton of gravel.
Tanner moved around the truck and got in without a word. I took a deep breath in then got in the passenger side. Tanner burned rubber away from the prison, leaving dust in our wake. White-power rock spewed from the sound system, talking about fucking over anyone who wasn’t white.
Tanner drove faster and faster until the prison was a dot in the background. He turned left down a deserted dirt road, then screeched his truck to a stop, turning the radio off. We skidded a few yards before the truck stopped and the cabin was filled with nothing but thick silence.