Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 93698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“Zeke.” Soft fingertips brushed the hair out of his face.
His cellmate better not be fucking touching him. Though, that motherfucker’s fingers couldn’t be soft. He had to have thick callouses from all the jerking off he did.
“LZ.”
Oh fuck.
Not too many people used that nickname anymore. His mother, Sophie, was one of the few, confirming he was no longer in his cell.
He blinked open his eyes and sat up, expecting her to ream him a new asshole.
She only stared at him with sadness and disappointment.
For fuck’s sake. That was even worse. “What’re you doin’ here?”
“Checking up on you. Are you okay?”
He pulled himself up straighter and made sure his dick was covered. “Yeah, Mom, I’m good.”
“Well, I can’t say you’re good. Because if you were, you’d stop getting arrested.”
Damn. “Was defendin’ myself.”
“You had your father all riled up. And you know that takes a lot.”
Zeke had a knack for that.
“You’re lucky you had your cut with you. Otherwise, I think he would’ve ripped your patch off himself.”
“Vi said he fought for me to keep my spot.”
“Well…”
“Did she fuckin’ lie?”
“No. But he would’ve made you earn it back.”
“He don’t got that power anymore.”
He liked to think he did, but the truth was he didn’t.
“He worked to keep this club on the straight and narrow for a reason, Zeke. Don’t ruin his hard work.”
“Probably did it to keep you happy.”
“He was determined to keep the club aboveboard long before I met him. It keeps the club stronger and—”
“Yeah, yeah, Mom. He’s already drilled that shit into me too many times to fuckin’ count.”
Her lips flattened out. “You don’t have to be perfect, Zeke, but you need to do better. For the club. Your father wanted everyone’s lives to be better. Don’t destroy everything he built.”
Seriously, her soft scolding laced with disappointment was worse than if she had raged at him. Though, his mother had never raised her voice to either him or his brother. If he ever drove her to that point, his old man would never forgive him.
“Anyway, I just came over to make sure you’re okay and I wanted to give you this…” She dug in her purse and pulled out his cell phone. “Laney found it after you were arrested and gave it to me for safekeeping.”
“Thought those pigs stole it.”
She frowned. “Don’t call your cousin a pig. And you should thank her for returning it.”
Cousin or not, Zeke wasn’t thanking anyone who wore a Shadow Valley PD uniform. Or hell, any pig skin.
“Sure you already thanked her.”
“Of course I did, but I’m sure she’d appreciate it from you.” She sighed. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re out and that it was the last time you’ll be getting arrested. Stop over for dinner this week. The family hasn’t sat down to a meal together in…I don’t know…eight months?”
Damn, his mother knew how to make a point without it being in his face.
She leaned in and hugged him. “Do better, Zeke. Prove everyone who doubts you wrong by being the best president this MC ever had. Or just do it for me.”
Chapter Three
Zeke’s gaze slid around the thick wood table with the DAMC logo carved in the middle. The table where his father, his uncles, and his great-granddad once sat.
But not his grandfather. Fuck no. Mitch Jamison didn’t follow in his father’s footsteps. He had decided he’d rather wear a pig skin instead of a cut.
And between Mitch’s two sons, one went the same route by becoming a pig and the other, Zeke’s father, followed what was in his heart and veins by becoming the president of the Dirty Angels.
Now Zeke sat in his old man’s former seat at the head of the table with the gavel only inches from his fingertips.
It was good to be back. Now it was time to get to work and do his mother proud.
He grabbed the gavel and slammed it on the table. “Let’s come to order.”
The officers quickly shut their traps and focused their attention on their president.
Chill, the VP, sat to his right. The sergeant at arms, Rage, to his left. Next to Rage sat Cruz, the treasurer. To Zane’s right was Chaos, the club secretary, with Wheels, their road captain, sitting next to him.
The club’s executive committee was made up of five voting members to avoid tied votes. The road captain didn’t get a vote unless another officer was missing.
The other end of the table didn’t have a seat. It remained open so any member or prospect called in front of the executive committee could stand there and face them.
Everyone at that table had generations of DAMC blood flowing through their veins, except for Cruz Delgado, the son of a former Shadow named Hunter, but he’d grown up with the rest of them in the gated DAMC community. Everyone at that table had known the MC life well before joining the club.