Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 119011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
“Girlfriend. But wife, hopefully. I mean—I’m looking for an engagement ring,” the man said, flustered as if he expected Zolt to judge him for his life choices. With this amount of social incapability, Zolt was surprised a girlfriend was even in the picture.
But there was a pretty piece of jewelry inside the counter, and it offended him with its very existence, so he approached the glass cabinet, unlocked it, and took out Leo’s ring. “I think this one’s a perfect piece. Understated but elegant. My sister told me it would go with any outfit too, so it should make the right choice for a real lady,” he lied, though his real sister would have said just that. It was perfectly unassuming. Perfectly boring and devoid of real passion. Practically the symbol of what that long-term relationship contract called marriage was.
A roar of motorcycles outside made the customer flinch before he could have taken hold of the ring. Zolt hoped to dismiss the noise and continue the trade, but it was impossible considering the growing tension between the two clubs he was involved with. He was like a husband caught between a wife and his mistress, desperate for them to never meet.
He could only hope neither of them ended up sending a bullet into his crotch before he managed to flee with his favorite lover—money.
The customer slouched, his attention gravitating toward the parking lot just as a whole swarm of bikers stopped in front of the shop. Zolt’s heart slowed when he recognized the Smoke Valley MC logo on their cuts. He’d choose his temperamental wife over the crazy mistress any day.
“I better get going. Might need some more time to… rethink the price,” the customer said, even though Zolt hadn’t named any.
Maybe the sucker really would be back eventually.
The guy dashed for the door, but Hank, the Smoke Valley prez, beat him to it and entered. The small cavalcade of bikers behind him didn’t end. Every time one of the Smokeys entered, the customer looked as if he was about to squeeze past or say ‘excuse me’, but he never did and only scuttled out once all ten men were inside.
All ten including no one other than Leo Heller. Zolt ignored him and focused on greeting Hank instead. The last thing he needed was Leo thinking that Zolt was somehow hung up on him. He did give Mike a wide smile though, remembering that Leo considered his brother the ‘better Heller’. That should make him itch, even if he still chose not to knock on Zolt’s door ever again.
“What do I owe the pleasure?” Zolt asked, though the large group said it all. They were here about the drugs Hank had talked to him about a week prior. He’d even prepared a hideout for the cargo, inside an ancient TV set that had been in the pawn shop since Zolt had started his business. He’d move it to his bedroom in an old box. This way the drugs would be hidden in plain sight.
Hank snorted. “Friendly visit.” He called over Leo with a gesture and patted his back. “Leo’s got it all for you, and he’ll be staying as long as it’s needed.”
Leo’s eyes met Zolt’s and he gave a stiff smile.
The fuck?
Zolt’s first instinct was to protest, but if he expressed displeasure in Hank’s choice, questions would be impossible to avoid, so he forced down his irritation and shook Leo’s hand.
“Good. As long as he knows how to make himself scarce with the Jackals sniffing around.”
Hank smiled at his son. “Leo’s got his shit together. He’ll be fine.”
It only now hit Zolt that he’d considered a hiding spot for the drugs, but he hadn’t given much thought where he’d put the Smokey attached to them. On the sofa, he supposed. Sadly, that idea made him imagine Leo on that sofa in just a pair of briefs or nothing at all.
At least this thankless job paid well.
“I’m sure,” Zolt said, sensing the heat of Leo’s gaze, but he chose to ignore it for now. “I expected you to come over after closure. I won’t be able to access the hideout during working hours.”
Hank groaned. “Leo’s in charge of the goods now. You two figure it out.” He didn’t wait for an answer and turned around, leading his pack outside.
Leo’s presence at the edge of Zolt’s vision was as irritating as a splinter in his eye, but he bore through it and waved off the Smokeys with a strained smile. It dropped off his face the moment they could no longer see him.
“Huh,” he said, making himself glance Leo’s way, his walls already high up and protected with vats of boiling water ready to be poured down on any invading party.
Leo clicked his tongue and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. It is what it is. I parked at the back, so let’s just move the cargo and hide my bike.”