Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Part of me knew that if I’d let her walk away that night, I’d probably never see her again. Sure, she said she thought she was getting laid. But by that stage, I’d already offered her the job. Besides, she had been joking. Because something told me it was going to take a lot more than an expensive bottle of wine and some good food to get her under me.
I looked across the bar at my brothers celebrating Nitro’s return. He’d done a stint in prison for arson after an insurance job went wrong. It was the type of shit I warned the guys about. Poorly vetted side jobs could get you time. Or worse, dead. Thankfully, there was no blowback on the club, and our razor-sharp lawyer had gotten him a light sentence.
While the band set up in the corner of the clubhouse, Led Zeppelin’s “Rock and Roll” blared from the speakers, and the energy in the room was high. It was a full house tonight. All the boys were here, and most of the old ladies, too. A few of the girls from The Den, Head Quarters, and Spank Daddy’s had also turned up, including Matlock’s movie star girlfriend, Danni Deepthroat.
As I watched everyone having a good time, I tried to absorb their enjoyment and their enthusiasm, but the truth was, I couldn’t seem to muster the excitement for club parties anymore. It wasn’t a recent thing. It was something I’d grown more aware of ever since I’d watched my niece and nephews grow up and find happiness away from the partying and club life. And it wasn’t just my family moving on. It seemed everyone was.
But me? I was fucking frozen in time.
Trapped with a memory.
Chained to it by guilt.
Or so it felt.
I shook my head to dislodge the depressing thoughts, and took a swig of the beer I’d been nursing for the last hour.
I knew what they thought about me. My brothers. They thought I was cold. Ruthless. That my heart dried up and scattered like confetti when my wife died. That I was incapable of feeling anything. They thought I was some kind of sociopath who didn’t feel the consequences of his actions or the weight of every choice I made as club president.
But the truth was, I felt it all.
Every single decision.
Every choice.
Every death.
Every damn consequence of the MC world.
I absentmindedly touched my hip where six dark lines were inked into my skin.
Some days I didn’t just feel it, some days I was fucking haunted by it.
But I did what I needed to do. Then I compartmentalized it. Tucked it away in the dark corners of my mind and hoped my subconscious did a good job processing it so it made some kind of righteous sense. Because I was the president, and that was my fucking job.
But there were moments where I craved the love of a woman. For someone to go home to at the end of the day. Someone who would wrap her arms around me after I’d brutally slayed a psychopathic murdering rapist, and remind me that I was still human. That I could love. That I was deserving.
Some days I thought I wanted it all. The wife. The kids. Even the damned picket fence. But I had spent far too long believing that I didn’t deserve to move on. Because if I had put Wendy first that night, if I had picked up the wine like I said I would, she wouldn’t have died in that car wreck.
I deserved to be alone.
It was my sentence for being a shitty husband.
For my wife and my unborn baby dying in the rain.
And I had rules to ensure I never forgot.
It was why I fucked with no attachment.
It was why I avoided any involvement with a woman that included feelings or commitment. Or love.
It was what kept my heart a barren wasteland and my bed cold.
It was my choice.
My penance.
But it wasn’t without its own consequences, because some days I was fucking lonely.
Like now.
Like last week.
And the week before that.
Not that there was any shortage of available women. Especially in the clubhouse.
But I didn’t indulge in club girls, and they had given up trying.
Except Tiffani.
Tiffani would never give up.
“Hey there, baby.”
Speak of the devil.
Tiffani slid into the booth across from me.
I gave her a nod and she grinned, tipping her head to look at me through her heavy lashes. “You look lonely. Feel like some company?”
“Not tonight, darlin’.”
She saw me glance over at the bar and her mood shifted. “You know, your new girl is a real bitch.”
My eyes darted to hers. “Why do you say that?”
She looked over at Taylor pouring Tully and Cool Hand shots at the bar, and her eyes narrowed. “Thinks a lot of herself, that one. Got a mouth on her too. She’s a bad seed, I’m telling you. You watch out for her, baby. I don’t trust her.”