Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 52851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 264(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 264(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
Kyle, though? She was different. I didn’t know how, but I was damn sure going to find out.
Chapter 2
Kyle
Once the briefing wrapped up and we had a solid understanding of what we were up against, the weight of the last few weeks finally hit me like a freight train. My body ached, my mind felt drained, and I wanted nothing more than to crash somewhere far away from the chaos.
“Let’s get you to your room,” Preacher suggested, already holding the door to Church open.
I hesitated for half a second before following him out. As we climbed the stairs, an uneasy feeling began to creep up my spine. It wasn’t exhaustion, it was something deeper, something I didn’t want to acknowledge. By the time we reached the door to my old room, the feeling had solidified into full-blown dread.
“No fucking way!” I stopped dead in my tracks, pointing at the door like it had personally offended me. “Fuck knows who’s done what in there, so, no.”
I wasn’t naive. I knew exactly what kind of shit went down in MC clubhouses. What people did behind closed doors wasn’t my problem, but this room? This room had been mine since I was born. Every night I’d spent at the compound, I had slept in that bed, in that space. And now? Now, I had to assume it had been turned into a goddamn porn palace, and the thought of stepping into whatever had gone down there made me want to gag.
Preacher just smirked and, with unnecessary theatrics, pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. “Relax,” he ordered as he pushed it open.
I felt Duke and a few of the other guys watching from behind me. Sighing, I forced myself to move forward, stepping into the room with cautious suspicion.
“No one’s been in here unless it’s been to clean it since the day you left, Kyle.”
I took a slow turn, eyes scanning every inch of the space. Everything was exactly where I had left it. The bed, the furniture, the pictures on the walls, it was like walking into a frozen moment from my past. Even the old sketch of my dream bike was still taped up, its edges curling slightly with age.
The tension in my shoulders loosened just a fraction. I nodded and dropped my bag beside the bed before sitting down heavily, absorbing the familiarity of it all.
“I’m glad to have you back,” Preacher muttered. I glanced up to see him rubbing the back of his neck, the awkwardness clear in his stance.
“Thanks.”
For a second, just a second, I thought that might be it, but then he asked, “Are you ever going to call me Dad again?”
The question hit the air like a gunshot.
I didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. My voice was steady, emotionless, as I met his gaze and asked, “Do you think you deserve it?”
Silence stretched between us. He held my stare for a moment longer before shaking his head and walking out, the door clicking shut behind him. A crack formed in the cold stone inside my chest. It happened occasionally, but I wasn’t about to dwell on it.
With a sigh, I kicked off my boots and lay back on the bed. The familiar comfort of the mattress wrapped around me, the pillow top and memory foam molding to my shape. Once upon a time, this had been the best night’s sleep I’d ever had.
The peaceful moment was short-lived.
“K-k-k-k-Kaaaaiiiii,” Smokey sang, drawing out my name like a damn cartoon villain as he dropped onto the couch beside my bed. Mack and Hammer flanked him, grinning like jackasses. Duke had stayed in the room after Preacher had left, but he remained standing, as always, arms crossed like the ever-watchful sentinel he was.
“So, tell me your stories,” Smokey said with a smirk. “We saw some shit from Data, but I wanna hear it from you.”
I smirked back, knowing exactly what would get a reaction out of them. “I’m getting a new rifle.”
“The fuck?” Just like that, the tension eased. The exhaustion was still there, but for now, it could wait.
A girl could never have too many rifles and scopes—fact. And today? Today, I was getting my hands on one of the holy grails of the sniper world. “The Canadians agreed to send over a TAC-50.” The words felt almost reverent as I said them, knowing exactly the kind of reaction they’d get.
“The fuck you say?” Hammer snapped, just as expected. The man had a sixth sense for sniffing out high-caliber firepower, and this was the equivalent of dropping a steak in front of a starving wolf.
Grinning—something I didn’t do often—I nodded slowly. “Arrives mañana, Chico.”
Duke’s lips twitched as I glanced at him, though I didn’t miss the flicker of green-eyed envy in his gaze. They all knew the unspoken rule: unless the world was burning down around us, no one touched my weapons. And so far? That level of emergency had never happened.