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)
I looked up. “You got a name?”
The guy looked back. “Not fucking white.”
I sighed, then got my tools from my bike and got the fuck to work.
The Samoan checked all around the bike. When he stood up, he eyed me with death in his gaze. “You got a problem with anyone outside the supreme white race or whatever the fuck you cunts claim to be?”
“I did. Then didn’t. Did time. Then walked the fuck away.” I instinctively ran my hand over my shank scar. The Samoan’s eyes narrowed on the movement.
He stepped closer. “You cross Reaper, or any of us brothers, and it’ll be you who gets lynched. I don’t give a fuck how good a mechanic you are. You’re here to work. You hear anything you shouldn’t, you keep your head the fuck down and don’t repeat a word.” He paused. “And we find out anything about us gets to those Klan cunts of Landry’s, your old boys, I’ll personally cut out your tongue and mail it to your old lady so she knows you won’t be licking her pussy no more.”
“Understood.”
He moved back to the Street Glide. “Never seen work as good as this . . . not even my own.”
“That hard for you to admit?” I crossed my arms across my chest.
The Samoan raised his brow at me. “Fuck yeah.” I smirked. “Bull.” I frowned.
“I’m Bull. I run this shop. But I’m in desperate need of a mechanic who’s A, good, and B, not a fucking pussy around my brothers and the shit that goes down around here.”
I nodded my head, about to say something when a voice came from the entrance of the workshop. “He work out or do I have to send him to the boatman?” Reaper walked in. As yesterday, the fucker had the promise of a real fucking slow and painful death in his eyes. A kid walked behind him. He looked like Reaper, but younger.
The kid watched me with the same suspicious eyes as his old man.
“He’ll do,” Bull said.
“You got the job,” Reaper told me. But I could see by the disappointment on his face that he’d rather have had an excuse to kill me. Reaper looked at Bull. “His bike done?” He nudged his head to the kid behind him. Looked eighteen, nineteen. Something like that.
“Just finished.”
Bull showed Reaper the bike. The kid looked over his shoulder, looking up at me, eyes suspicious. “Nice ink,” I said. He had a picture of Hades and his old lady on his arm, like the mural I’d seen out in the yard. Two bright-as-fuck blue eyes stood out on the woman. “Been doing tattoos since I was a kid. I’m good, but that work’s better,” I added.
The kid nodded. Reaper let out a loud laugh. “Won’t get nothing from my retarded kid. Doesn’t speak.” The kid clenched his jaw. Reaper put his arm around the kid’s shoulder and put his hand on his son’s jaw. “Styx here ‘signs,’ whatever the fuck that shit is.” Reaper started moving Styx’s jaw like he was talking, like he was a fucking puppet and Reaper was the puppet master. “My name’s Styx and I’m a fucking pussy. Take after my cunt of a mamma.” Styx just stood there and let the fucker do it. Reaper laughed then pointed at me as he started walking out, Styx following behind. “Bull here tells you what the fuck to do. Do it, and I won’t have to kill you.” He shook his head. “And for fuck’s sake, cover up the fucking Nazi ink. Makes me wanna peel your skin off you when I see it, and I really don’t wanna lose a good mechanic. Try Hades shit as a cover-up.”
Reaper walked out, and Bull got the fuck to work. He glanced up from the desk he’d slipped behind. “Be here tomorrow. Eight a.m.”
Twenty minutes later I walked into the motel room we’d gotten last night. The door hadn’t even closed before Beauty was in my fucking arms, her legs around my waist as usual. Her lips crashed to mine. When she pulled back, she checked every inch of my face. “You okay?” she asked, her eyes wide. “They didn’t hurt you?”
I smiled, then, gripping her ass, lowered us to sit on the bed. “I’m good, baby.” She let out a huge breath. I palmed her tight, full ass.
“Shit, darlin’. I’ve been a wreck all day.” She laughed, but I could hear the shake in her voice. Fucking destroyed me.
I kissed her, and she kissed me back like it was the last time I’d ever see her. “I got a job,” I said. She blinked at me, then nodded. I sighed and dropped my forehead to hers. “I ain’t a good guy, baby. I know you know it. But this is who I am. I ain’t ever gonna walk the straight and narrow. Klan, Hangmen—I belong in that fucked-up world.” When I looked up at her, I said, “You and me? We’ve been living in a fucking bubble for months. But it had to burst at some point. I was always gonna be dragged into this kind of fucking life.” My stomach pulled, pains shooting inside like I was being shivved. I decided to tell her everything. My past. What I’d done. Why I’d been sent to prison. Beauty was stock still with every word I spoke.