Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 120513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 603(@200wpm)___ 482(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 603(@200wpm)___ 482(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
Trip had a habit of touching Stella when he needed to bring his anger down a few notches. Maybe it worked the same way with Sig and Red.
“Red comin’ down to join us?”
Instantly, it was like someone pushed a button on the man, Sig spine snapped straight and every muscle tensed. “Why?”
Shit. “Just wonderin’.”
“She need to be a part of whatever you’re runnin’ past me?”
“Nah.” He just needed to get this the fuck over with.
He could be worried for nothing.
Or he could have every reason to worry.
Shit could go either way.
It was the not knowing that bothered him.
Chapter Fifteen
Dodge pulled a hand-rolled from his cut, lit it and once he took a deep inhale to fill his lungs, he slowly let the smoke slide back out while he asked, “You got a sister?”
If he thought Sig was tense before, he just watched the man turn to concrete. The VP’s eyes narrowed. “Say again?”
Jesus. “You got a sister?” Dodge asked again, louder this time. Crazy enough, Trip, who had also gone stiff, echoed the same damn question at the same damn time, so it ended up in stereo.
Sig’s dark eyes flicked to his half-brother for a second, then settled back on Dodge. “What the fuck you talkin’ about?”
“You know, a fuckin’ sister. A siblin’ that mighta came outta Silvia’s snatch. You should know what a fuckin’ sister is,” Trip growled.
Better Trip be an asshole to Sig than Dodge. Because he’d been tempted to say something similar.
“Maybe Red and Stella should be a part of this conversation,” Dodge suggested, hoping neither man exploded like the aluminum nitrate Trip said they’d need to blow up Hillbilly Hill.
Sig shook his head and glanced around. He then tipped his head toward the stairs leading up to the executive meeting room. “Upstairs.”
Hell, since the man didn’t instantly deny having a sister, maybe it was for the best they take it somewhere more private. Especially since The Barn was getting loud and rowdy and would only get worse as the night went on.
If Sig would’ve said no, the discussion would’ve been over in an instant, Dodge would be free and clear, and they all could concentrate on getting shit-faced.
Dodge was already heading in that direction with the tequila and pot, but he still had a ways to go until he hit the level of shit-faced. He hardly drank when he worked the bar at Pete’s, but when it came to down time, he liked to let loose.
Right now, nothing was loose. Not on him, Sig or Trip.
“Yeah, upstairs,” Trip said, ripping off his baseball cap and slamming it back on, clearly agitated.
Dodge nodded and headed in that direction. He rarely climbed those steps since he wasn’t an officer and had no reason to go up there. The few times he had was when he took a sweet butt or a smokin’ hot hang-around up there for a bit of fun during a pig roast or party.
Or, hell, just any night that ended in a Y and he happened to be at the farm instead of Pete’s when the clubhouse was swarming with available and agreeable pussy.
As he ascended the steps, he had a flashback of him, Ozzy and Easy running a train on some chick who came up from Harrisburg thinking it would be fun to party with an MC. They decided to give her the full experience.
Afterward, Ozzy said the difference between them and the Originals was the Originals wouldn’t have stopped if she tried to back out. Luckily, she didn’t change her mind and loved every fucking second of it.
It had been a good night.
Tonight might not be such a good fucking night.
He’d find out soon enough.
As soon as the three of them stepped into the loft, Trip shut the door and turned, planting his hands on his hips.
Sig was now standing next to the long table with his hands on his hips also, but with his head tipped down as he stared at the center carving of the Fury’s insignia. When his brother said nothing, Trip asked Dodge, “Why you askin’ if Sig has a sister?”
“The band that parked here on the farm? The band who played Pete’s Wednesday and Friday nights? Where it was parked he mighta missed the name spray-painted on the side.”
“He mighta but I didn’t. Said The Synners.”
Dodge nodded, keeping one eye on Sig as he talked to Trip, whose eyebrows rose.
“That bus had Sig’s sister on it?”
“Can’t answer that ’til I know if Sig has a fuckin’ sister.” At this point, he could pretty much guess. Now he just needed to find out what his sister’s name was.
Though, he was sure he knew that already, too.
From the corner of his eye, Dodge saw Sig turn. “Who gave you those fuckin’ scratches?”
Ah, fuck. Maybe it was best to tell a half-truth right about now. “A chick I hooked up with Friday night.”