Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 45045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Hopefully, history wouldn’t be repeating itself.
The thought carried me down the hallway, and I found myself outside the office door. It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes since Peaches and Gus had started talking, but it felt like hours. Nervous energy filled my body, pulling me in fifty different directions at once. Part of me wanted to go tell the staff who was in charge now.
Stake my claim and make it official.
Another part wanted to celebrate. Maybe get drunk. Getting laid would probably do some good, too. At the same time, I wanted to go through the books, start wrapping my head around the totality of the business. Gus would help with the transition, of course, and I’d grown up watching him. I knew the basics. Still, there was a big difference between being the boss’s nephew and being the boss.
Oh, and there’d be a metric fuck ton of legal paperwork to deal with, too.
Logistics. Money transfers.
Title companies were a thing, although I wasn’t quite sure what they did. Would I need one of those?
I had no fucking clue about stuff like this. As of this morning, I’d owned a motorcycle, three towels, a laundry basket of clothes, my leathers, a helmet, and my club colors. Oh, and that stuffed animal. Going from that to owning property and a business would be a hell of an adjustment.
This was going to take time. Time and hard work.
Celebrating probably shouldn’t be my highest priority.
Leaning back against the wall, I crossed my arms over my chest as I waited. There was a storm building in Gus’s office. I could all but smell Peaches’ anger and betrayal, and I actually felt a twinge of guilt.
No. Fuck that shit.
I’d earned this bar, paid for it with five long years in prison, holding my tongue and taking the punishment for a crime that wasn’t mine. Gus owed me for that alone. The fact that he’d get a cash payout was just a bonus at this point.
No reason for me to feel guilty. And that was the truth.
Still, I could see how much this sucked for Peaches. She’d put in time, too. Time and good faith. Riling her up was a blast, but I’d never wanted her hurt. Not for real. I cared about the girl. Cared about her a lot.
Too much.
Gus had been weak. I loved my uncle, but he’d fucked this one up big time. She deserved better from him—and from me. I should be in there with them. Decision made, I reached for the door.
“Get out! Get the fuck out of here, you lying bastard!”
The door burst open, and Gus stumbled out, walking backward. I caught his arm and steadied him as the slab slammed shut again. I heard the heavy bolt sliding shut, locking us out. My uncle looked at me, then sighed.
“Actually went better than I expected.”
“Glad I don’t have to deal with hiding a body.”
“Not yet,” he replied, then sighed again. “She’s not a happy camper. Probably should’ve warned her that our plans might change once you got out.”
“Why didn’t you? Would’ve been a lot easier on her.”
“Guess I didn’t want her turning on me,” my uncle admitted, surprising me with his honesty. “I knew she’d hate me for it. God, but I miss her mom. Saw her in town a couple weeks ago. It’s been twenty years, and Glory still won’t even look at me.”
Raw pain filled his eyes. I cleared my throat, uncomfortable. Fuck. I didn’t like this. Didn’t like my girl hurting, and didn’t like having to see my uncle like this.
Didn’t like knowing I was part of it.
A loud thump came from behind the door, breaking the moment. There was a crash, and then some kind of tearing noise. Shit.
Some women pouted when they got upset.
Others cried.
Peaches had always skipped that part, moving straight to revenge. Another crash. This one so hard that the door rattled. I pictured her all pissed off in there, those glorious tits of hers straining against the front of her low-cut black Starkwood Saloon shirt. My cock twitched. Christ, she was hot when she got angry.
Her cheeks would be flushed, and she’d run her fingers through that wild, dark hair of hers in frustration.
Total sex hair.
Now my dick was getting hard, thinking about grabbing onto the strands, pulling her head back while I fucked her from behind.
I am such an asshole. The only woman I really cared about—hell, probably loved on whatever level I was capable of feeling such things—had just lost her dream.
A decent guy wouldn’t be turned on right now.
Unfortunately, my sense of decency had died in prison, leaving behind a man who got off on the idea of sparring with Peaches. The door shook again, followed by a wordless scream of rage.
“Maybe I should—?”
“No,” I said, cutting Gus off. “I’ll handle this. You go out to the bar. Cover damage control. I’ll take care of Peaches.”