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)
Dev’s sister, Shanna, though, was a little badass in her own right. She’d chosen nursing school. She trail-blazed a path completely devoid of anything club-related or at least Dev liked to pretend that way. They’d have to see.
With a final keystroke, the screen opened to a search bar, drawing Dev from his skittering thoughts. The fucking sprinting in his head, always jumping this way and that, never fucking stopped. He had to force his focus back to Julian Cullen of Coronado, California.
“I see the look of determination on your face. Be mindful. We’re in a precarious situation right now…” his mom warned.
He moved his fingers over the keyboard, bringing up the details of their San Diego club. He found the local chapter prez’s cell phone number.
“Yup. It’s the reason he left the buildin’ unharmed,” Dev answered and reached inside the desk drawer, using his palm to push against the hidden compartment artfully installed in the desk. No matter how many times they were raided, no one had ever found the secret space. He pulled out one of the two burner phones. A small, loaded pistol and thousands of dollars in cash filled the rest of the hidden drawer.
“Okay.” Her tone still questioned his actions. Whatever her disapproval, he gave her room to have it. She was the best mother in the world. He certainly hadn’t made it easy on her while growing up. His antics, once he’d hit puberty, had been a bitch for everyone involved.
His brother, Keyes, could attest to most of his misdeeds while growing up. Goddamn Keyes. Fucking Saint. Could barely tell a lie. It was why his buddy kept his mouth shut and fists flying most of the time.
The crazy volley of thoughts in his head made it harder than normal to stay focused. He needed a bump or a fist full of Adderall, preferably the first one. Speed, meth. Always his drug of choice. It made him feel bulletproof.
When was the last time he’d partied all night just to get off?
Hell, who knew.
He must be going through something substantial, even life-altering. All the signs were there. Of course he was.
Most likely, he’d finally matured into a full-fledged adult. Gross.
The Disciples clubhouse. He needed to spend more time there. They had every possible drug and drink known to man. Willing women—dirty, eager, up for anything—the club had their fair share of club whores ready to spread themselves for any patched brother. Why had he stopped going there?
Well, another obvious answer smacked him in the face. Women weren’t his thing these days.
Could he name the last time he had sex with anything more than his fist?
The date didn’t come easy, which meant Dev was really having a life-disrupting moment. He liked to fuck just to fuck. He liked to watch people fuck. He’d always tossed himself in if given a chance. Sex had defined many of his adult years. He loved ass play too. Any ass really. Rubbing against his prostate gave him the best orgasms.
Why wasn’t he missing sex more? Shit.
Nervous energy had his leg bouncing as he expertly popped the battery into the burner phone. The comforting familiarity of the movement brought his focus back to the here and now. He powered up the cell and pushed in the number displayed on the computer screen, then pressed call.
“Yo. Parker,” the leader of the San Diego club answered.
“Devilman.” All the introduction he ever needed. “I got somethin’ for you.”
“Yup.” Communication like this was all the entire club needed. No unnecessary words.
“Bama plate comin’ to your backyard. Dude’s name is Micah Abbott if the intel is to be believed. Tag ’em. Next, Julian Cullen, Coronado. Sounds easy enough to track. He doesn’t know what’s comin’ for him. Watch his six.”
“Done.” The phone went dead.
Dev used the burner to send the license plate number he’d captured earlier. Then sent a description of the car and the guy. He watched the screen until he saw the “text read” notification from the other end.
He had no doubt in the end result. Dev removed the battery and snapped the phone in two. The tension of the last few minutes dissipated. His stomach rumbled with hunger as he got to his feet.
“Wanna grab a bite?” Dev asked his mom, who sat there staring at him, her work in front of her completely ignored.
“Do I wanna know what just happened?”
“You got it figured out, I’m sure. Want some grub?” he asked, getting a better look at her. She didn’t look like she was eating much these days, as thin as she was. “You’re awfully skinny.”
“I’m on a special diet. I have a procedure tomorrow—” She started to explain but he cut her off with a raised hand.
“Mom. Seriously. You look fuckin’ great.” All his concern poured out through his harshly barked words, wanting her to finally hear him.