Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 35933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
“Your dad knew Johnston?” Aaliyah asked, frowning now. “When? I’m sure I would’ve remembered him mentioning someone like you. No way in hell he would’ve known your dad and not pretty much hated you for your mouth.”
I cracked a grin. I loved that, like me, she lacked a filter on her mouth. “It was before I was born. Johnston was a kid then.”
“Ah,” she said, nodding in understanding. “Johnston doesn’t talk about his past. We’ve agreed it’s an untouchable subject, and I respect that.” I took that as my cue to shut the conversation down and not mention my father and Johnston together again. I was already on Johnston’s bad side—not that I truly gave a fuck—but I didn’t want to be on Aaliyah’s bad side. Despite her attachment to the sexist president, I liked her.
The chapel doors suddenly opened, and Blayke and Johnston stepped out. Johnston looked between me and Aaliyah, then sighed at the anger burning in his wife’s eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but Aaliyah beat him to the punch. “We don’t allow women in the club?” she asked him, her tone frosty.
He sighed. “Red—”
“Don’t Red me,” she snapped at him. “I get I’m really the only woman here, but don’t pull that bullshit with me, Johnston. Not all of us are soft-hearted. Giving a fuck about people doesn’t make us soft.”
He walked forward despite her glare. “I wasn’t including you in that,” he told her.
“I don’t give a fuck if you were or not.” He palmed her hips, drawing her close to him. “You owe Noah an apology.”
He scowled. “I don’t owe her shit,” he said at the same time, I snapped, “I don’t want his bullshit apology.”
Aaliyah pinched the bridge of her nose, but before she could say anything, Blayke sauntered up and leaned a hip against the bar, smirking at me. “You still want to prospect?” he asked me.
“Depends,” I said, flicking my eyes to Johnston, who was murmuring something in Aaliyah’s ear, before looking back up at Blayke. “If I’m going to be treated like shit just because I have a pussy instead of a dick, then no. I’ve got no fucking interest.” To hell with what my father wanted. If these fuckers were this big of assholes, I didn’t want any part of it. His ghost would just have to be happy I’d attempted to join.
“Johnston has some… learning to do.” Johnston glowered at him but kept his mouth shut. “However, I’m not. Johnston is willing to give you a chance, but there’s some stipulations you’d have to agree to.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, tilting my chin up at him. I couldn’t wait to hear this shit. “Like what?”
“Like Geek and I are going on a run to Mexico soon. We’ll be down there until further notice. There’s a… problem we need to take care of.” I wasn’t stupid. I knew what a problem meant. It was dangerous. Could very well take my life or his. Dad had never held a job my entire life. He made his money running guns and drugs for gangs, the cartel, and motorcycle clubs. This life was nothing new to me.
“Okay…” I drawled.
“You will have to come with me, and you answer to me while we’re down there. You do well, and I’ll talk to Johnston about patching you in, and if he agrees, we bring it to the table for a vote. If you don’t do well…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but the warning hung clear in the air.
If I failed to impress him enough for him to want to patch me in, I’d pay for his time with my life. I would have seen and heard too much. I would be a liability, and they couldn’t let me go.
But I was nothing if not stubborn, and when I wanted something, I stopped at nothing to get it.
“Okay.” I uncrossed my arms and held out my hand to him. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
His hand wrapped around mine, and as he shook it, a slow smirk that was full of trouble curved his lips. My heart flipped in my chest, and my pulse skyrocketed.
“Welcome to the Satan’s Worshippers MC, Noah,” he drawled.
Something in his tone told me I was well and truly fucked. I had no idea how, but I was.
And it was too late to back out now. We’d already shaken on it.
Shit.
4
Blayke
Alejandro strode into the clubhouse, looking every bit the influential, powerful man he was. His dark hair was perfectly styled, and his Armani suit was custom tailored to fit his body. And his shoes were so fucking shiny, someone could’ve used them as a mirror to do their makeup.
“You didn’t call,” Johnston glowered from his position at the bar, his hand circled around a beer. Johnston was not afraid of Alejandro Garcia, and I wasn’t sure if that made him brave or dumb. Alejandro was the devil that walked the earth.