Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78237 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78237 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Nogales flashes a smile that is devilish at best, evil at worst. “It’s war, man, that’s why.”
War. Every drop of blood in my body turns cold at that one word. A biker war would mean trouble for every business in and around Angel Harbor. Destruction, injuries, and very likely death.
“War,” Cyrus repeats, almost as if he’s testing out the word to see how it feels on his tongue.
“Cyrus.” I reach out to him, but he takes another step back, putting even more distance between us. “What is he talking about, war? And why are these people in my bakery?”
Cyrus looks at me like he’s never looked at me before like I’m some silly little girl who doesn’t understand the world.
“Don’t worry about it, Maven. This is family business, and Nogales is family like I said.” His gaze is distant and hard. So unlike the man I’ve shared my hopes and dreams with for close to a year.
I nod, feeling numb at his words and his tone and the fact that this Nogales character so easily expects Cyrus to participate in this war. It’s all so unsettling, and I feel sick to my stomach.
“Right.” I take a step back and bump into another leather-clad biker.
“I can finish closing up,” Willow offers with a sympathetic expression.
I shake my head and step away from the half-circle of bikers until my fear fades enough to get a grip on this situation.
“Sorry, guys. We’re closed. I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.” I stare at the men with as much strength as I can muster because this is my business, and I won’t let anyone destroy it or my reputation. “Now.”
“Let’s go,” Nogales growls and turns toward the door, working hard to walk without the limp he’d walked in with.
Cyrus reaches out for me, and I shake my head. “I’ll drop you off at home first.”
“No, thanks. I’ll grab an Uber.”
“I’ll get you home, Boss.” Willow’s offer is the perfect reminder that I’m not alone, even if it feels like it.
“Maven,” he pleads.
“Let the bitch go,” Nogales growls. “We got shit to do.” He glares at me and pushes the door open with more force than necessary, simply because he can.
Cyrus looks at me with a mixture of anger and sorrow. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he promises, and then, after another long look, he follows the bikers across the parking lot.
“What the fuck was that?” Willow’s question echoes my own thoughts, but I’m too shaken to offer any kind of explanation.
All I can think about is the fact that Cyrus isn’t the man I thought he was just a mere ten minutes ago.
Who the hell is he?
Chapter Two
Wilder
“Sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up.” Ace is still pissed about whoever killed Hector, and he’s not mincing words tonight. Gone is our good-natured President who takes no shit.
In his place is the Ace I can picture in the military, kicking ass and taking names without batting an eyelash. “It’s just past ten o’clock. Where the fuck is Coop?”
Shades slips inside the room just as Preacher shuts and locks the door so Church can officially begin. At Ace’s glare, Shades drops down in his chair beside Ace and lifts up his hands.
“Sorry I’m late, man. Kelsey is in labor, and Coop is a mess, so I drove them all to the hospital. Kenna texted you,” he adds to take some of the sting off Ace’s anger.
Ace nods once, the only indication he accepts the explanation. “Fine. You all know why we’re here so fucking late at night instead of at home with our women. Hector Santos was killed in my club when I explicitly fucking said that he was not to be fucking touched. I want to know two goddamn things: who killed him and why.”
His voice echoes in the room, and we all eye each other with something akin to suspicion, not because we don’t trust each other. We’re brothers and have been for years, but someone clearly entered The Chamber and killed Hector. It has to be one of us.
Joaquin leans forward on the table, fixing his gaze on me. “Don’t we have some kind of surveillance camera that way?”
“Nope,” I confirm easily. “Considering the shit that goes down inside The Chamber, we can’t have a trace of that shit in existence. Not the door leading to it, not even the blueprint filed with the county. As far as anyone outside the MC knows, that room doesn’t exist.”
I cast a look at Ace, but I don’t bother to remind him that was his unilateral decision and one I disagree with wholeheartedly.
“Shit,” Joaquin growls. “I hate to say it, but that means the unthinkable.”
I can’t disagree with our newest patched member. He continues. “Hector’s throat was slit, practically ear to ear, which means whoever did it showed up with the purpose of killing him and doing it quietly.”