Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
The guy took three menacing steps toward Saint, who held his ground without flinching or reaching for his gun as instinct demanded.
The man came close enough that Saint noticed the scar transecting his jaw was part of a larger network of wounds. It was the darkest while smaller, web-like lines crisscrossed his cheek. Whatever he’d been through left a permanent reminder.
The guy’s hand went to the hilt of his hunting knife. “Think I’d rather send you back to your club with a message from my boss.”
“Oh yeah, what’s that? You’re coming for us? You wanna run our town? You think your band of cute little wannabe outlaws is going to take territory the Handlers have held for decades?” He laughed, making sure it sounded as mocking as possible. Taunting this asshole was a bad idea. He didn’t want a bloody brawl in the middle of the laundromat that would alert the local cops. Sure, the club had some in their pocket, but there were still many in the police force who hated them and would love to toss their ass in jail. “You have no idea what you’re up against.”
The guy’s hand closed over his knife handle as his face darkened. “Fuck y—”
The door jangled, and Maverick strode in, followed by Zach and Louie, the trusty Louisville Slugger he’d had for years. That bat had busted countless kneecaps and deserved its own cut. Louie was a tried-and-true member of the HHMC.
“Maintenance,” Maverick announced. He clapped his hands together once, then rubbed them back and forth as though eager for fun to start. “We heard machine thirteen is out of order.”
“Oh fuck,” the attendant squeaked out. “C-can you guys take this outside? I can’t have blood in here.”
“No worries, buddy,” Mav said with his customary don’t-give-a-fuck attitude. “We ain’t gonna shed any blood. We’re just gonna have a friendly chat with our new friend here.” He walked over to the outnumbered guy and gripped his shoulder. “Right, friend?”
The guy looked like he could have murdered Mav with his bare hands right there in the laundromat, but he also knew he’d be dead before Mav took his last breath.
“I said, right, friend?” Mav shook him a little with a mischievous gleam in his eye.
“Right,” the guy managed through his tightly clenched teeth. Saint could almost see his blood boiling beneath his skin.
“All right. Good answer. So, Saint, my brother, what did you want to say to my new friend?” He squeezed the guy’s shoulder as he spoke.
Fucking Maverick.
Zach stayed off to the side, letting Saint run the show as he’d done increasingly often lately. He leaned against a non-running washing machine, resting Louie across the top, a gentle reminder of his power and authority.
And willingness to cause pain.
Saint stepped forward, getting in the guy’s space. He lifted the paper with the number to eye level. “My president wants to talk to your boss. When we call, and we’ll fucking call, someone better fucking answer. And they better be able to get us to your boss. This is our town, as it always has been. One of your shit stains fucked with my president’s daughter.”
The guy’s eyes flared as a small smirk quirked his lips up on one side.
Saint let the fury he’d felt when one of these guys approached Beth resurface. “It pissed our president off.”
And it pissed Saint off. So. Fucking. Much.
“Was it you? You Demo?”
The guy waggled his eyebrows, and Saint nearly attacked. Only the need to impress his club superiors kept him from launching himself at the man.
“Our president is not someone you want on your bad side. So now he wants to chat. Understand?”
Tension in the room ratcheted to near bursting as Demo’s jaw worked back and forth. No doubt he was struggling to rein in the temper that wanted to burst forth. As the four of them stared in silence, Saint readied his muscles for an attack. He wiggled his fingertips ever so slightly, prepared to curl his hands into fists the second the situation went south.
A loud washing machine buzzer went off, making all of them jolt as though electrocuted.
The attendant made a choking sound.
Mav squeezed their new friend’s shoulder. “Fucking hell,” he muttered, then laughed. “That’ll wake you up. So whatcha say, pal? You gonna pass along the message, or we all gotta pull out our dicks and start measuring?” He cupped a hand around his mouth, jerked his other thumb in Saint’s direction, and said in the loudest whisper possible, “I’ve heard this guy here has a monster in those jeans. I wouldn’t test it.”
“Mav, shut the fuck up.” Zach’s scold lost its effect as soon as Saint saw the way he failed to keep from laughing.
“Fine,” Demo spat out, literally hocking on the floor as he spoke. “I’ll pass it on, but I fucking promise we’re not going anywhere. My boss doesn’t scare easily, and he likes it here. I’d plan on getting used to us.”