Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 132031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
He had no idea if Fox showing up at Tires was a regular occurrence, but it seemed suspect that he’d stop by at the same time as Cash’s arrival.
“I’ll be back.” The rumble from Keyes’s chest turned the words into a growl. Cash might have been impressed, but he had to fist his hands to keep from resting one on the butt of his pistol.
Keyes didn’t wait for his response. He only turned to leave, taking long strides to meet Fox where he stopped with the others in the middle of the parking lot.
“Did he finish with you?” a guy asked, taking Keyes’s spot in front of Cash. He was shorter with the same style phone in his hand as Keyes used. “Were you interested in run-flat tires?”
Cash had to peel his gaze from the bikers to even understand how this new guy knew what they’d been discussing. The question must have appeared on his face.
The guy lifted the device as if it held the answers.
“Does that always happen?” he asked and hooked a thumb toward the bikers. After a quick glance as if the tire shop’s employee had no idea three ominous looking bikers had just rolled up and owned the space.
“More often lately. So the run-flat tires, I can have ’em here this afternoon but the mornin’ would be better.”
Cash split his attention, watching Keyes cross those brawny arms over his chest. He looked fierce as hell and made the other bikers look small by comparison. He better understood why Keyes might take the risk to date the assistant district attorney. The guy was formidable. Those three bikers didn’t stand a chance in a bare-knuckle brawl.
“I think I…” Cash had to look down at his loafers, and kicked at the rocks at his feet, to focus on the tires. “How long’s the quote good for?”
Keyes needed to be considered as a possible suspect in any crime being committed within the Disciples. The biker seemed culpable of something if fierceness or attitude spoke of criminality.
“You have twenty-four hours. What’s your name? I’ll hold the quote.”
“Cash Ryan,” he said. From his divided attention on the scene playing out in the parking lot, Keyes left the bikers standing there and took long, purposeful strides toward the side of the building. The loud rumble of Fox’s bike started, followed by the others. Then a competing sound came from the back of the building, shifting Cash’s attention in that direction. Keyes revved his engine, drowning everything else out as he drove from around the side of the building.
Fox and team waited at the entrance of the parking lot. They drove out in formation. Fox first, the new guy second, Mack third and Keyes in the last spot. In all the documentation he’d studied, they were described as a hoodlum gang. Local chaos was their deal. Cash’s gut swirled, telling him they were so much more. He nodded to the man in front of him who had already ended their communication, his full concentration on the phone as he started to walk away.
Cash dropped down in the car seat and had to restrain himself from following the four-pack of bikers. In this car, in these clothes, he’d be so out of place he’d be spotted. He narrowed his eyes as he pressed the engine button. He had to get on the inside of that club as soon as possible.
Chapter 11
The drag in Dev’s steps made climbing the stairs to his apartment harder than he ever remembered before. The weight of the shit show of his day rested heavily on his shoulders.
He winced remembering the words he’d chosen during his fight with his father. The pain in his mother’s voice would leave a lasting mark over his heart.
The rest of the entire afternoon became layering intervals of screaming, watching his mom cry, and a bike shop and service area torn apart. When he left after his last client, he noticed a couple of new Harleys tipped over in the small showroom.
Dev tried to cocoon himself in the solitude of his workspace. He’d kept the music cranked up to drown out the ruckus outside his door. But dampening that noise did little to help the obsession his father had sown with his hurtful words. The idea of Diesel as his old man’s second wouldn’t leave his thoughts.
That one blow alone had crushed his heart. For a while now, he recognized that his temperament wasn’t right for the lead job. He’d worked hard on himself. Tried to be a better man, more responsible and worthy of something good from the world.
He’d carried his load by himself for years now. Tried to care for the family he’d created. He even took care of Tena, and she was a bitch all of the time.
Yet the second spot was going to Diesel.