Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
I won’t ask what’s in this transport, Tripp won’t either. We have defined our place in the underbelly ugliness and even the criminals know not to push their luck.
Throwing on jeans, I tuck my junk before tossing on my black t-shirt and cut. I don’t bother zipping and buttoning yet as I make my way out to the common area of the duplex. Roundman set these up years ago with a common sitting area, small kitchen in the center with four separate bedrooms, each with their own bathroom off the common space.
“Grinder, Raff, Dove, let’s get the fuck up.” My voice is raspy from the long night and singing as I call out for them.
Looking around, I go about making coffee as my brothers each emerge, all in a different state of undress.
“Got a transport. We’re going to Texas. We leave tomorrow so we gotta sort shit now. Grinder, plan the route, I’ve texted you the destination and date of arrival.”
He nods as he pulls his t-shirt over his head.
“Dove, know you love your junk, brother, but put the hammer away so we can handle club business.”
God help the motherfucker; he swears he’s got a cock that he can hammer a nail in with. Sure, he’s hung like a fucking horse, but as a man, I don’t want to see all that shit before I’ve even had a beer or a cup of coffee. Not that I want to see it ever. Dove, he loves to be naked and doesn’t give two shits about who sees him. More than once each of us have walked in on the fucker as bare bottomed as the day he was born.
He reaches down and grabs his limp dick. “Always got my tools ready, brother.”
We all laugh because Dove is always happy to talk about or show off his cock. I don’t know that he’ll ever find a woman who can keep up with him.
“For that one, you get the transport,” Raff calls out.
Shaking my head, “really? I’m next on drive rotation. He’s gonna go down the interstate with his wang out. Come on, Raff, you take the ride with me.”
He laughs, “nah, I got shit on the calendar back home. If this was do or die, I’d figure it out. But you got this one Country Boy.”
I nod because it’s my time and I don’t mind the transports. We try to go two together, just to cover our backs. Not all of us have a CDL to drive the rigs, but I do. That means it’s my turn for the open road therefore I’ll do as requested by Tripp and take the load. Even if it does mean I’ll be stuck with Dove who loves to find every place possible to expose himself.
Wrapping things up in the duplex, I get my bike secured and my go bag moved to the truck. Dove does the same. Get this one going and get back to life. Should be easy.
The day goes on with truck preparation alongside Grinder giving me the plan for our route.
For a Monday, it’s a quiet one just getting organized. Tonight, we will go grab some food and crash here in the duplexes again. Tomorrow morning, we will line up with me in the rig and the club at my back pulling out of the compound.
Texas bound with Hellions all around … for a few miles any way.
THREE
SARA
“I’m not supervisor material. I’m just a workplace vigilante.”
Not this shit again, I think as I open the most recent email from my boss. If only my side business would take off so I could leave behind the politics of this job. To spend my free time lost behind the pages of my favorite smut books while sharing quality pecans with the world, that would be a dream. I know it sounds simple, but really I love pecans. I have created a niche product that is doing well at farmer’s markets and craft shows around the state. My day job is still necessary though.
Farm checks, I love them. The last few years, I’ve built a good relationship with the farmers, and they no longer dread the farm inspections. Plus, I try really hard to come out to them with a new grant to try for or some kind of cost-effective innovation so I’m not simply there to pick apart their operation.
The part of my job I dislike involves my boss and everyone over him. First, most of them don’t actually stay on top of the ever-changing climate needs and financial needs of the agricultural industry as a whole. Too many people in their positions focus on the politics and not the groundwork these farmers deal with. Second, I have a healthy appreciation for their administrative degrees, however, the lack of knowledge beyond the bottom line frustrates me. What about the environmental impact? Do any of them worry with the long term implications of farming from both the side of the farmer and the consumer? Without land to farm, we as a country are reliant on imports. Without soil quality tests in place, the food production suffers, and again we become reliant on imports.