Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 107488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
The dark figure stopped, not at all acting surprised someone was back there. A telling sign. “Yo,” came the low grumbled response.
Scar.
Fuck.
Had he seen them? Had he seen Reilly naked from the waist down? Had he watched them while they fucked?
Rev’s fingers curled into tight fists, drawing on his common sense not to launch himself at the prospect and pound him into the ground.
“What are you doin’ out here?” he asked and waited for the prospect to throw the same question back at him. While it would be stupid on his part—a prospect should never question a patched member—Scar seemed to question shit he shouldn’t. He tended to have a “don’t give a fuck” attitude about most everything. That alone could get him in trouble with the club and law enforcement. Which was probably the reason he’d spent most of his adult life in prison.
But this time he didn’t boomerang the question back at Rev. Instead, the scarred man stared through the dark at Rev for longer than necessary—or even comfortable—before grunting, “Rounds.”
“What d’you mean rounds?” Rev walked toward Scar, in an attempt to draw him away from where Reilly was. He only hoped the woman would wait until Rev returned and gave her the all-clear before driving away.
“Judge wants all the prospects to take turns patrollin’ the area at night.”
This was news to him. He would check with Judge to make sure that was true and Scar wasn’t just being a peeping fucking Tom when it came to Rev fucking Reilly on the hood of her cage.
Because then there’d be a problem. Not only with Rev breaking one of the cardinal rules but between Scar and Rev. If the fucker was lying, there’d also be a problem between the club and prospect.
Three potential issues caused by one nosy motherfucker.
Rev decided to test the water. “What’d you see?”
“What d’you mean?” the man grumbled, turning to face Rev with his hands now planted on his hips. His head was cocked to the side and if it hadn’t been so dark out, Rev just bet his expression and his eyes held a challenge.
And the asshole had no right to challenge Rev. None at all.
“Exactly what I fuckin’ asked.” He repeated the question but slower this time speaking like Scar was too stupid to understand plain English. “What the fuck did you see?”
The ex-con’s hesitation was long enough to put a bitter taste in Rev’s mouth. “Didn’t see shit. Heard a commotion, came around the corner, saw a Fury cut and decided whoever it was had things covered.”
He was being a fucking smart ass by using the word “covered.” Scar was also lying about seeing Rev wearing his cut since he’d taken it off and turned it inside out and placed it on Reilly’s hood.
The problem was, if Rev made a big deal about it, Scar could run his fucking mouth and cause Rev a lot of grief. Just like when Scar kept challenging Rook about Jet. If Jet hadn’t belonged to Rook—even though no one knew it at the time—the former cop might have ended up dead and buried, never to be seen again. That’s how much Scar hated pigs. His hatred for law enforcement ran a lot deeper than most of the Fury members. It probably burned in his gut like acid.
But right now, Rev didn’t give a fuck. The man needed to go chew a Tums and get the fuck away from the shed before Reilly revealed herself.
“You got orders, then carry on with them,” Rev said quietly, but firmly, making sure the older biker knew who had the upper hand here. It wasn’t Scar.
The prospect had already crossed the line a few times. So far, those infractions had been forgiven. However, they hadn’t been forgotten. It wouldn’t take much more to get his prospect rocker stripped and send him on his merry way.
Problem solved.
But that didn’t mean Scar wouldn’t try to take Rev out the door with him. He could try to use the fact that Rev was banging someone on the “no fuck list” as leverage.
Fuck.
It was best to try to keep things between them civil. At least for now. Once he successfully claimed Reilly at the table all fucking bets were off.
If Trip assigned prospects to work with her in the new business, one of them better not be Scar. There was no fucking way she was working closely with that asshole.
He waited until Scar crossed the driveway, the courtyard and then disappeared into The Barn before turning and heading back to Reilly.
When he returned to her cage, she was fully dressed and outside the Kona, leaning against it, her arms crossed over her chest.
When he got closer, she asked, “Who was it?”
He considered lying to her and telling her it was no one so she wouldn’t worry but decided that might not be the smartest idea. “Scar.”