Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 72756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
35
CRASH
“Well, you sure got that fucker worked up. Did you really have to call him?”
Preacher shrugs. “He’s losing it, and the more we can push him, the better our chances of breaking him. If he was thinking straight, he would’ve moved on by now but he’s too invested.”
We're stopped just outside the parking lot that surrounds the whole front of the Hall of Grace, sitting on our bikes while we wait for everyone to catch up.
There's poetic justice in being back here at the Hall of Grace. First Mom's funeral, and now Aaron's prayer service. Bet they're not getting his body for a good while yet while the police do their forensics, but Grayson had to do something. He knows we’re after him, and he’s going to want to cement his place before the body’s cold. His only real shot at getting away with murder is wrapping himself in the protection of the church.
There's extra security, and maybe there wouldn't have been if we hadn't dropped him a call. But fuck, the thought of that piece of shit quivering in his boots makes me happy. Real fucking happy.
His time’s up.
He could’ve left us alone and we would’ve left him to his fucking grift, but he didn’t know when to let go. Grayson fucked with us and he’s going to find out why that was a bad idea.
“Ready?” asks Eagle-eye, and he's eager. He said he was getting too old for this shit after everything we went through to save his daughter, but in spite of plenty of gray in his hair and mustache, he still ends up at the front of these things, every fucking time.
Razor, the only other member that can compete with his grays, pulls up next to us. “I'm ready at least. How long are we sitting out here? Do you think there’ll be food? Some of these things have whole fucking buffets after. I haven’t had good potato salad in ages. Or fuck, deviled eggs. Church ladies love that shit.”
Summer looks at him funny. “Uh, there’s usually a luncheon in the community center after big services, but I’m not sure they’ll want us to stick around and eat.”
He grins. “I wasn’t planning on bringing the dish back, honey.”
Her mouth drops open like that was the rudest thing she’d heard all day, and considering how we woke her up, I know for a fact that’s not true.
About fifty of us cruise into the parking lot, riding slowly right up to the entrance and spreading out on the lawn. The guards watching the doors cluster like there's safety in numbers, but there's only a handful of them. Maybe ten. Grayson obviously didn't expect the whole club to show, and that's going to be his fatal fucking mistake.
I pull up to the front and kill my engine before getting off.
“The… the hall is full,” says the bravest of them, the one the others are trying to fucking hide behind. He's a little doughy around the middle, but looks sturdy. “I'm afraid we can't let you in, but you can follow the stream at—”
Preacher is second to dismount. “Fellas, fellas. Of course you can let us in. I'm sure there's space if we squeeze.” It's not coincidental that he makes sure his cut's open so they can see the grip of his gun peeking out.
But it's Summer who takes the lead. “Harold,” she says calmly, putting a palm on Preacher’s chest as if she's holding him back. “This is in memory of my father. Surely, you can let me and my friends in.”
“Miss Hale! I'm so sorry, but—” He looks distraught, his big, terrified eyes taking in her new look before they flash to us and then back to her. “I heard…”
She genuinely looks a little sad. “You don't really think it was me, do you? Maybe Dad and I didn't always get along, but he was my father. You’ve known me since I was a little girl. I went to school with your daughter! Do you really think I would've murdered him?” I take up position next to her, sliding my arm around her waist, while Devil steps in behind, glowering. It doesn't make it any easier for Harold to find the words, that's for fucking sure.
“Miss Hale, I'm so sorry, but…
“Harold. Come on. It's me. Please.”
I don't know if it's Summer, or the small army of bikers behind her that does the trick, but he nods. “Okay, just, please don't cause any trouble. Our faith is strong, but there have been a lot of blows to the community in a short time, with Mrs. Hale, and then Pastor Hale and all the… well, you know.”
“Of course I know. Thank you.” She starts moving and the rest of us follow behind.
“You're not… you're not bringing everyone in, are you?”
And in the most dangerous voice I've ever heard out of Summer, she replies calmly, “Oh yes I am. Every single one, Harold. Please don't try to stop me.”