Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 134057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 670(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 670(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
“Perfect,” Swiss breathed. “Idris Elba will play me.”
Claw frowned at him. “Dude, you look nothing like Idris Elba.”
Swiss glared back. “Idris Elba is a fucking icon and he can turn himself into anything and anyone. And yes, I do, I’m tall dark and handsome.”
“You got one of those right, and it ain’t the last one,” Claw muttered.
I grinned at them, they were almost kind of cute. You know, if I hadn’t seen them ruthlessly torture all those people.
Emily grinned and turned to face me while they bickered amongst themselves.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” I said.
She grinned. “Of course I’m here. Where else would I be?”
I shrugged. “When I told you everything and you just hung up, I thought—”
“I was a totally thoughtless and callous bitch and you planned on making a voodoo doll out of me?” she asked.
I smiled. “Something like that. But now I look like the bitch for thinking it.”
She took a shot and nodded for me to do the same. I did, because I needed it and drinking and talking with a girlfriend was a salve to almost any wound.
“Yes, you do,” she agreed. Her eyes went up and down me again, likely cursing my boyfriend jeans and simple white tank. I did have Gucci sneakers on though. I went online shopping. A girl just had to have a little Gucci in order to survive the club. And a bulletproof vest.
None of that worked with Liam.
But now I decided I didn’t want it to.
“You look good,” she deduced. “Not your outfit, of course, it’s a fucking train wreck but you, you look good.” She did something very rare and out of character and had me scared she was going to declare she had some kind of inoperable tumor. She reached over and squeezed my hand. “But you, you look better. Better than I’ve ever seen you. Not happy. But like...at peace or something.”
I swallowed my tears because I knew she hated it when women cried. “I’m in the middle of a biker war with my dead fiancé and I’m at peace.”
She laughed, letting go of my hand. “Well, of course, did you expect it any other way?”
I swallowed my tequila and the words I was going to say.
I didn’t expect it any other way because I didn’t expect to find peace at all.
That was the real secret behind why I chased war. So I didn’t have to feel the failure of never being at peace.
“Come on, one more song,” Emily pleaded.
Her hair was only slightly messier than perfect, her eyes were glowing, makeup still flawless. Somehow. After three hours, a bottle of tequila and somehow negotiating Claw and Swiss into not only letting us go to a karaoke bar but to come with.
Claw had even sung.
True story.
Journey, “Don’t Stop Believing.”
“We’ve done two, and it’s late and Liam is back from...whatever and he’s pissed that I’m not there and he’s on his way.”
“Even better!” Emily clapped, ushering me on stage. “He can see you on stage. I can see him from the stage, judge him, punch him when we’re done, and it’ll all be good.”
I paused. “Wait, what? Did you just say you were going to punch him?”
She gave me a ‘well, duh’ look. “Of course. His story is sad and tragic and he’s been through so much but also, fuck that. He hurt my friend, he needs to be punched.” She then resumed tugging me on stage to a small amount of cheers that came from Claw and Swiss since no one else was in a karaoke bar in a small town on a Thursday after midnight.
I was drunk on tequila, with that kind of buzz you can only get with a truly special friend. The kind where you feel happy, safe and that no bad could possibly be as bad as you thought it was.
I was feeling that when the song started.
I was feeling it all the way up until the shooting started.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jagger
He was pissed.
He was pissed that he had to go and make peace with the fucking Russians, pretend he believed their bullshit about the cousins acting on their own and not emptying a clip into the whole fucking lot of them.
He didn’t of course. Because that wouldn’t be smart.
Starting a war with the Russian Mob was about the last thing they needed right now. So they’d played nice, took the apology and the free guns—every single one of which were all tested—and then he got the fuck out with the knowledge that they would kill every last one as soon as the shit with Fernandez was over.
But then thinking about the shit with Fernandez being over pissed him off even more.
Because that would mean the threat was gone. Hopefully, the DEA would be off their ass and things would go back to whatever passed for normal.