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)
One bathroom would have been enough for all of them, including Monty, but since they already existed, it was just easier to keep them both since it would’ve been more work to screw with the plumbing and rip out the toilets and sinks in the women’s room to turn it into something else.
Just outside the hallway and to the right, a room had been constructed for the executive committee to meet. It housed a scratched-and-dented conference table someone scored for free, along with six mismatched rolling office chairs.
Unfortunately, due to limited space, the side door leading to the outside steps to the second and third floors was accessed through that room. That meant if a meeting was in progress, anyone wanting to head upstairs had to go the long way around by going through the rear door and the parking lot to access it.
Even with all that, it was the common area that impressed Fletch the most. Endless hours of back-breaking work had gone into it from every member of the Southwest Regional Charter.
Luckily, it turned out better than any of them ever expected.
They had made the two front windows, as well as any windows on the upper floors, bullet-proof by covering them with a clear polycarbonate security shield specifically designed to stop bullets, even from rifles like the AR-15. On the first floor they installed a product called BulletShield over the windows on the inside and left the old graffitied plywood covering the outside.
However, up on the second floor where they planned to turn it into an apartment, they realized no one would rent a place with covered windows. They ended up replacing the glass on the backside with the same type of material, then covered them with blinds. They left the two front windows boarded for now since the space was only currently being used for storage, building material and supplies. They’d deal with the front windows later if and when they got a renter.
Fletch hooked a left to where they had installed a curved counter in one corner. Behind it sat a large fridge and kitchen sink along the outer wall. Under the counter on the backside, shelves held liquor, glasses, mugs, spare six-packs and anything else needed for enjoying a whiskey or beer while watching a game, playing a hand of poker, or even simply chilling.
He snagged a cold beer out of the fridge—purposely not offering one to Nox—before heading over to where everyone else was gathered. They sat either on one of the three mismatched used couches placed in a U to face the ninety-six inch TV hanging on the side wall or at the poker table.
Finn was in the middle of shuffling cards at the old card table large enough for eight players. Rez, Cross, Jamison, Miller, Frasier and Decker sat with him. Fletch pulled out the last open chair and planted his ass in it with a sigh.
Crew hovered between them and the couches, where Monty and North sat with the TV on, but muted, while Nox perched himself nearby on a stool at the counter.
After the Blue Avengers mother club split up, only a dozen members made up their regional chapter. Even so, it was a rare moment when all twelve of them were together in one spot due to their various shifts, special assignments and family obligations.
Today, apparently, the stars had aligned and all of them had made it. Crew most likely had something to do with that due to whatever announcement he was about to make.
Hopefully, it was good news and not bad for once.
Fletch swore the last time the twelve of them managed to be all in the same spot was at Nox’s wife’s funeral months ago.
“Okay, fuckers, listen up,” Crew yelled, clapping his hands together.
“Isn’t it Jamison’s job to call us to order?” Cross asked the DEA agent.
“I got the A-okay already from the prez to take the reins.”
“Is this an official church meeting?” Monty asked from over on the couch.
The woman might be petite at only five-foot-three and maybe a buck thirty in weight, but she was as tough as fucking nails. Any time an inmate tested her, they were the loser.
She wasn’t gorgeous or girly, but her solid good looks grew on you, even with her super short dark brown hair. Her striking wide green eyes sucked you in and she could put power behind her voice like no other female Fletch knew. If she commanded someone to do something, their best bet was to say, “Yes, ma’am,” and get it done. She could put a hurting on anyone testing her patience or to see if she was weak or a pushover.
Being the first, and currently only, female member of the Southwest charter, she was a BAMC trailblazer.
Jamison prided himself on having a diverse MC. Alvarez’s parents had immigrated to the States from Venezuela. Aiden Cross was openly gay. Tim Frasier and Roland North were Black. No one was turned away as long as they were upstanding, sworn law enforcement, active or retired, lived or worked in the region and, of course, rode a Harley-Davidson or an Indian.