Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 111416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
“But the executive committee needs to vote on it first before we present it to everyone else,” Fletch reminded Jamison.
“That’s the plan and why I called you all here as well as everyone else available today. I wanted to make sure more than the board members got to see it to make a decision.”
“One of us should use our phones to do a virtual tour for everyone who couldn’t make it,” Rez suggested.
“Before we bring this to vote…” Fletch turned to Jamison. “Are you sure we can’t afford anything better?”
“With the way you all hate fundraising? Do you actually need me to answer that?” Jamison asked with a shake of his head.
Fletch sighed. “Then I guess we might be stuck with this shit-hole. Let’s go see the rest of it before the sun goes down and three-pound rats come scurrying out.”
“Now there’s a good reason for us to get a barbecue grill,” Miller threw over his shoulder as he disappeared into the dark toward the rear of the building.
Chapter One
Fletch propped his boots on the edge of the propane fire pit as he slouched low in his chair. He gripped a bottle of Corona and balanced it on his thigh. Nox had lit the fire since, being early April, the night had turned a little chilly.
At least it had been warmer earlier in the day when they went on their monthly run. Fact was, nobody enjoyed numb nuts.
He stared across the flickering flames at Nox, wearing his ball cap pulled low and also fisting a Corona. His fifth of the night already.
“You good?” Fletch asked him. Nox had never been super talkative but he was more quiet lately than normal.
Nox lifted his head and Fletch could see the emptiness in his eyes. Along with the faint dark circles under them.
Jesus.
Fletch tried to think of something to say to see some sign of life from him. “It has to suck that Jamison’s not only your superior at work but also when you’re not working.” Fletch threw a hand over his shoulder, indicating their clubhouse behind them.
“Doesn’t bother me,” Nox mumbled.
“Then, what’s bothering you?”
“Nothing.”
That was a damn lie.
“There’s one more steak left if either of you assholes want it.” Finn stood in front of the grill on the other side of the fenced-in brick patio.
“Not me,” Fletch said. “My gut’s about to bust as it is and that steak has been on the grill too long. It’s probably turned into leather by now.”
“It’s medium.”
Fletch grimaced since he liked his steak still mooing. “Like I said, leather.”
“Nox?” Finnegan asked.
Lennox shook his head, his lips pressed together so tightly his mouth was nothing but a slash.
Finn closed the gas grill’s lid with a clatter and shut off the propane after throwing the last ribeye onto a plate. “I’ll take it inside. Someone will jump on it.” He disappeared through the rear metal door.
Fletch stared at Nox on the other side of the fire pit. The man lost his wife not even a month after Jamison had been the highest bidder on their building in Rockvale. Losing her was still raw and hitting Nox hard.
A couple of weeks after the funeral—and the long procession of BAMC members on their bikes from all six charters along with everyone from the Shadow Valley PD—he had shown up unexpectedly at the clubhouse and began to work on it at a feverish pace.
Nox working himself so hard worried the rest of them, but if that was what he needed to deal with his tragic loss, then they let him be.
He’d done more work on the interior of the building than any of them. He still did. And more often than not, he didn’t go home and instead would sleep on a cot up on the unfinished third floor.
Even though his excuse would be he’d been too tired to head home, most likely it was because he didn’t want to go home to a quiet and empty house.
It would probably be best if Nox sold it and bought something that didn’t hold all of the memories.
“I’m going to head out,” Nox grumbled, but not making even the slightest move to leave.
Fletch considered the beer in his brother’s hand. “Might want to stick around a bit after finishing that one.” He jerked his chin toward the almost empty bottle clutched in his tight grip.
Nox turned his eyes toward him, but Fletch only met his gaze and held it because he wasn’t backing down. They’d been pussy-footing around him long enough.
Fletch straightened in his chair and leaned forward toward Nox. “Look, I get—”
The back door being shoved open made him swallow the rest.
With a lit cigar clamped between his teeth, Crew’s salt-and-pepper head appeared out around the door. “You assholes want to play a hand or two?”
“I’m sorry, what?” Fletch asked, cupping a hand around his right ear. “Did I hear you offering free hand-jobs? If so, I need to know if you have calluses first. I prefer soft palms.” He added a jerking motion with his fist.