Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92067 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92067 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“Be there in a bit,” Torch says, going inside with Beth. I don’t respond.
I don’t give a fuck if he’s there or not. I have a job to do and a son to keep close to home, and by God, I’m going to do it.
Chapter 34
Skull
“What the fuck do you want?” I snarl, my words sounding slurred even to my own ears. My head is pounding. I’m starting to get too sober. I need more to drink. With that one thought in my head, I ignore Dragon, who is walking toward me as I walk over to the large six-foot-tall toolbox. This damn thing cost a mint, but it’s nice. There’s a fridge in the bottom of it and the pull-out drawer above that used to contain wrenches. Now, said wrenches are strung across the floor—although one is buried into the windshield of the old Impala—and the drawer is full of Jim Beam. I grab a bottle and then zig-zag my way back to the plastic outdoor chair I stole from the porch. I almost fell, but as proof that I’m not drunk enough just yet, I manage to keep standing.
“So, this is your life now? Getting drunk off your ass and leaving your old lady alone to cry her eyes out alone,” Dragon asks.
“Livin’ the fuckin’ dream, hermano,” I grunt, opening the bottle.
“Your club is dying. Most of your members are gone. You don’t give a fuck?”
“If you came to just ride my ass like Torch tries, you can just turn around and leave. I’ll tell you what I told that asshole. Everything I was living for is gone. He wants the club, he can have it,” I snap, slamming the bottle back and guzzling a quarter of it down before putting it on the folded camping tray beside me.
Dragon leans over me, grabs my fucking bottle, and takes it. Stupid ass motherfucker. I wait for him to take a drink and give it back, instead the son of a bitch throws it over my head. I turn my head to watch as the glass and amber liquid crash against the cinderblock. I watch as it splatters, then drips down to the floor. With a heavy sigh, I get back up, go back to my drawer, and pull out another bottle. This time, I nearly tip over more than once. “Shit,” I hiss, trying to right myself. Dragon grabs the bottle out of my hand while I’m not paying attention. The strength in the way he wrenches it out of my hand sends me falling backward and I land on my ass, wincing as I hit the concrete. “Fuck. Damn,” I huff, scrubbing my face because my vision goes blurry. “That’s goin’ to leave a mark.” Dragon doesn’t say shit, he just takes my unopened bottle of Jim Beam and flings it across the room so it hits on the wall close to where the other did. “What the fuck, hermano?” Dragon doesn’t answer. He goes to my beloved drawer and pulls out two more bottles of Jim Beam. I don’t feel like sharing with the fucker—especially since he’s already responsible for ruining two bottles. Still, I’m not going to quibble because I’m sensing the asshole is in a bit of a bad mood. “Your old lady freeze you out of her pussy? I knew I liked Nicole.” I grumble, scrubbing my face again. Why does the room keep moving? Dragon doesn’t answer or hand me another bottle. The fucker chucks another bottle against the wall—then another one. Panic hits me. It takes me four tries to get up on my feet. That’s not my fault. Something is wrong with the damn floor. I’m going to have to dig up the concrete. It keeps rocking back and forth. I don’t even know how it’s doing it. By the time I finally get up and start walking toward Dragon, the asshole has destroyed at least four more bottles. Once I’m close to him, another one bites the dust. “Stop it! You fucking asshole! That’s mine!” I grab the bottle in his hand, yanking at it because, with just a glance at my drawer, I know it’s my last one. Before I can make it safely away, Dragon pulls it back and I don’t even get a chance to get it again before he’s slamming it against my toolbox. Glass and my favorite bourbon rain down on and around me. “Now I have to cart my ass back to the liquor store. I’m billing you for that shit, hermano,” I growl. Instead of a reply, Dragon’s fist connects with my mouth. I go back, slamming against the floor, dazed and trying to figure out what the hell just happened. When I look up at Dragon, there are two of him … maybe three.