Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67757 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67757 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
In the front living room, I find two of my brothers, Wild Man and Tank, and I smile. “You boys must have missed me to come all the way out here.”
Tank laughs when he turns to me. “Nah, we came to make sure you don’t start eatin’ cucumber sandwiches with your pinkies in the air.”
I frown. “Who the fuck is eating a cucumber sandwich?”
Wild Man laughs even more. “It’s like a rich delicacy or some shit,” he says with a shrug. “Brought you some shit to tide you over.”
He’s holding a paper bag, and I cross the room, snatching it from his grasp like the greedy fucker I am.
“You’re welcome,” he says in response.
“Oh shit, Maven Cakes! Thanks, bro. Tell Maven she’s the best.”
I pull out two boxes from For Goodness Cakes, happy to see the bakery is up and running after those LTC fucks caused a fire. “Then I saw something else in the bag and took a peek.
“Tequila and bourbon? Damn, is it my birthday?”
“See,” Wilder Man says to Tank. “I told you it didn’t take much to make this guy happy.”
Tank’s deep laughter bounces off the dark wood that decorates the room. “Maybe it’s because he’s babysitting a damn Playmate.”
“Wrong,” I growl and crack open the tequila, pouring it into the crystal glasses from the bar in the far corner of the room. “She’s a Playmate’s evil twin. All the hotness but infused with the devil.”
I hand each of my brothers a glass, and we sit on the brand-new leather chairs that now decorate the room where Emiliano took his last breath.
“Hot is hot,” Tank grumbles. “I almost hate to give you this since you’re already having such a good time.” He hands me a green plastic bag with the logo of one of our dispensaries. “A few pre-rolled joints. Should get you through the shitshow.”
I pull out one and put it up to my nose to smell it. “I vote for Tank to get patched immediately.”
Wild Man laughs. “We’re not just here bringing gifts.”
My smile fades, and I lean forward, giving Wild Man my full attention. “What’s up?”
More than anything, I want a bigger role in the MC, and if a guy like Wild Man is coming to me for anything, I’m damn well going to listen carefully and offer what I can.
“I have an idea about a way to strike LTC where it hurts, but I need some input.”
I frown. “How can I help?”
At that question, Wild Man’s shoulders relax, and he outlines his plan. “I’ve been talking to this guy, a black hat hacker named KrypTonic. He’s a pro with drones. Like top-of-the-line military-style drones. Motherfucker is expensive, and I think the work you did in the Spartan Brigade will help.”
“How do you…never mind.” There isn’t shit Wild Man can’t find out, and I nod. “Okay, what work?”
“The opium fields.”
My eyes go wide at the implication. “Okay, I’m listening. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
We spend a few hours outlining a plan combining my combat experience with his hacker skills to find a way to bring Rojas and Los Tres Colombianos down for good.
Finally, I lean back in my chair, my brain buzzing. “Why didn’t you ask Ace or Shades?”
“I did, but they said your training was more up to date.” He shrugs. “Something about video game soldiers,” and he laughs.
Wild Man nods and stands with his hand extended. “Thanks for the input, Lucky. This shit might actually work.”
I take his hand. “It’ll work. When do we start?”
“Soon. KrypTonic needs a little more time to work out some kinks, but we should be good to go in a couple of weeks,” Wild Man explains.
Tank, who’s been quiet most of the time, finally speaks up. “You two, be careful. We don’t need them to take any more brothers from us.”
“We will be, man,” I assure him, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’ll keep me updated, right?” I ask Wild Man.
Wild Man nods. “Of course. We’ll be in touch.”
We say our goodbyes, and I walk them to the door. I grab the remaining tequila and bourbon and head to my temporary bedroom.
I feel a renewed sense of determination to prove myself to the club and to help bring down Rojas and the LTC.
CHAPTER TEN
Aria
“Uhm, hi! Hello.” I force a smile even though the boring operator doesn’t care how chipper I am, or that I'm sitting on my pink bed in my pink bedroom.
I continue, somehow believing it matters. “My name is Aria Morgan, and my father, Geoffrey—”
“Please hold.” The voice cuts off abruptly, and the sound of elevator music starts in my ear.
I let out an impatient sigh, put the phone on speaker, then lean back against the mountain of pillows piled against my headboard. This is my third call of the morning. I’ve tried the ATF, the DEA, and even the Department of Homeland Security. None of them have provided any information on the whereabouts of my father.