Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
"We can all hit a bar still," Cash insisted.
"Yeah," I agreed. "But chase skirts? Fuck clubwhores?" I asked, brow raising, watching their gazes slide away. Because if there was one thing I knew about my men, aside from their loyalty to me, it was their loyalty to their women. Our clubwhore days, if we had them at all, were long behind us.
"Then maybe send—" Cash started, trailing off because he was finally coming to the same conclusion as I had a while back.
There simply wasn't another good, viable option.
Vance would have been. Back before he settled down with my daughter.
Colson was never an option because he was a single dad, and there was no one to leave Jelly with.
Everyone else was married with kids. Aside from the new guys not being able to relate to them, I had to consider that those men would have their wife and kids on their heads, making them lose some of their focus on the job.
They were better here at home.
West had to go.
He would hit the clubs, chase the women, etch some new notches into his headboard. And while he drank and fucked around, he would gain the trust of the new guys. They would open up to him. They would show their true selves, not just their front that I knew they would show to someone like me. Or Cash. Or Wolf.
"I know he's a bit of a pain in the ass," I allowed, shrugging. "But I think the same could be said for all of us when we were his age. He's a loyal brother, which is the most important thing right now. He's been in the club long enough to know how things work here. So what if he goes and fucks around? Pulls pranks on the guys? All we need is to know if he thinks Huck's men will be club material, that they will be loyal, that they aren't complete pieces of shit. That is all we need from him. Some intel. As much of a fuckup as he might be, I think we can trust him with that."
"So he's not going to set up the club?"
"Not by himself," I said. "He might stay down there. But I would be going down at some point. One or both of you would be doing a drop-in. But all that official shit, that would be on me, on us. He's just letting us know if it is even an option. That's all. He's not stupid. He can give us that much."
Neither of them looked pleased, but they gave me tight nods as they finally got on-board with the idea.
Which was good.
Because West was supposed to leave in two days.
Collectively, I thought some of the women were breathing a sigh of relief that they wouldn't have to inspect their food before they ate it. But I had a feeling the club was going to miss something without him around to lighten the mood, to keep everyone on their toes.
They wouldn't know it until he was gone.
Then they would all wonder when he would be coming back.
"How often is he checking in with you?" Cash asked, on-board, but still wanting to make sure all the kinks were ironed out. Even though I had always been the one to deal with the details, and he typically enjoyed shirking responsibilities.
Time had matured him a bit.
I guess it had done that to all of us.
Opening a new chapter was just the challenge I thought we all needed. Something to be excited about. A new mission since things had calmed down so much in town.
"Every morning. Every night, if he learned anything important. I don't want him getting fucking trashed and forgetting shit. From there, Renny can piece all the shit together to get an feel for each of the guys."
To that, my brother gave me a nod, his gaze sliding off into the backyard. "Strange."
"What is?"
"Starting new. I'd swear to fuck we just took over this club like five years ago or some shit. Now we're the 'old guys.'"
"You're just still fucking butt-hurt that the kids told you to cut your hair," I shot back, smirking.
"Thank God it was one of the girls, or I'd have to crack some heads."
"And gotten your ass handed to you," I told him, watching as he sighed.
I wondered if our father had felt this way. When we were aging up. When we were getting bigger, smarter. When we had recklessness to go with all that bravado, giving us an edge over the older guys.
It must have been a hard pill to swallow.
Some days, I still felt like I was choking on it.
We were older and wiser, sure. But they were younger and hungrier.
It didn't take much to know that, should they ever need to prove themselves, they would.
And we'd be eating fucking humble pie. And nursing our bruised egos along with our aching joints.