Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
He never heard how they found her, but she was a fierce mama bear. She worked tirelessly for the club, filing motions and injunctions and countersuits all the damn time. Keyes couldn’t keep up with everything she did.
“You’ve been hit hard,” she said, winding her way into the center of the room, standing her briefcase on the table and folding her hands over the handle. She had no problem dealing with even the meanest of the members. She never cowered and was always tough as fucking nails. “I spent most of last night trying to find out what they have on the club. They’re being tight-lipped. Fox’s list is all I got, and I haven’t been privy to the evidence they have. After this, I’m surprised they let Smoke go. When I leave here, I’m heading to my office. I’ll keep Fox informed. If there’s anything any of you knows that’ll shed some insight, now’s the time.”
“Decision made a long time ago to stay clean after that bitch started all her shit,” Fox said, talking about the newest DA. Fox got several grunts of approval showing the unison of that decision.
“Can we bond out Chain and Ace?” Keyes asked.
“It’s not just bonding out. There’s a lot of layers to these charges. They’re saying they evaded arrest down in Ellis County,” she said, looking around the room. “They have witness statements substantiating the charge.”
“Fuckin’ goddamn rednecks,” Mack muttered. Keyes only nodded, crossing his arms tighter over his chest. They were nothing but small town wannabes down there.
“They’re callin’ donuts in the parking lot resistin’ arrest,” Fox filled in before the club got too rowdy.
“How much this gonna cost?” Mack asked. “All our bank accounts got locked up.”
“I honestly don’t know. I’d venture to say costly,” Margie said, lifting the briefcase off the table.
“Goddamn,” Devilman drawled. Keyes agreed with that sentiment.
Keyes knew what most of the guys did not. They might not get involved in heroin, but methamphetamine was too lucrative to just give up an area as big as Dallas. Keyes only knew the club secrets because of the sheer size of his bulk. He added muscle to the sale. Maybe even more important, he kept his mouth shut. Only Devilman, Mack, and Fox had any knowledge of those runs. Keyes never asked questions. Honestly, he didn’t want to know any of the details. He got his thank-you bonus—a few grand for a few hours’ work—and that was it. But sure as fuck, Fox had all that cash somewhere safe, ready for times like these.
Keyes watched Fox stand, his chair scraping the floor as Margie started to leave.
“Hound and Mack, stick around. The rest of you check in tonight. We’ll reconvene when we know more.”
As the room cleared out, the air crackled with tension. The need to kick ass coming loud and clear through every word spoken. He could feel his own scowl etched permanently on his face.
Keyes made his way out of church—where only patched members of Havoc were allowed to enter, and apparently the club’s lawyer—back inside the main part of the clubhouse where everyone usually gathered. The brothers had clearly enjoyed the evening from the look of trash and bodies littering the floor. Keyes stepped over the beer bottles, careful to avoid the club whore still passed out on the floor.
He agreed with his brothers—they had been set up. Based on what his brothers had reported last night, the feds were chasing their giant fucking tails with whatever they’d confiscated yesterday. Everyone was clean, unless of course something had been planted.
The members’ focus turned to narrowing down their enemies. That was a long fucking list. Biker clubs were notorious for building lifelong adversaries, and the Disciples had plenty of those.
Who was strong enough to cross them? Now, that list was much shorter. They owned this town and had forever. Their hold was stronger than ever before. Up until the last eighteen months and that new district attorney’s bullshit, he’d have thought the Disciples were a necessary evil. Sure, the cops hated them, but the club gave back to the community, kept the real trash skirting the town. Win sort of win for everyone.
Some of his brothers were already taking seats at the bar, probably trying to chase the hangover away. All the senior and most of the junior members hit the bottle hard every single night. He could see a whole day of drinking, smoking, and plotting revenge planned for this Sunday. They might even get drunk enough to act, which would make matters worse. At seven thirty in the morning, Keyes could never quite stomach alcohol. Besides, as loyal as he was to his brothers, and vice versa, Keyes didn’t really fit, no matter how hard he tried.
Besides, he needed to get his bike back to the farmhouse before his father saw it. He should have taken it before he came home this morning, but he’d been tired as fuck. At the time, the risk seemed worth it. Not so much now. If his old man ever saw that bike, he’d have it sold with a forged title and the money spent before Keyes ever caught wind of the intention. The new cell phone he had gotten this morning from the club vibrated in his pocket, the club members were the only ones that had the new number. He was willing to talk to any of those people. Keyes answered blindly, pushing through the front doors of the club.