Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89145 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89145 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
But how gracious of them…
I dug out my pack from the glovebox and lit it up, and for whatever reason, Kellan was amused.
“You nervous?” he asked.
I scoffed. “No.”
God yes.
It struck suddenly and forcefully, settling within me like a blade embedded in my rib cage. At the same time as I… I mean, I’d known this was coming, right? If I wanted to belong to this family, I was going to witness violence at some point. It wasn’t all about murder and guns.
“I can wrap the bat in a security blanket if you want,” he offered.
I reached over and punched his shoulder.
He cracked up.
Trapping the smoke at the corner of my mouth, I checked the side-view mirror before I made a U-turn, and Kellan cranked up the volume again.
I kinda needed it. The music pumped through me, giving me a much-needed boost of energy, and I just steeled myself. I’d chosen this life. I was all in. With my stipulations. I wasn’t killing anyone.
Then I winced internally, remembering telling West just today that I wasn’t gonna hurt anyone either.
That wasn’t a promise I could make, was it?
I couldn’t guarantee that I’d never find myself in a situation where violence was required.
Although, I couldn’t guarantee that as a regular, upstanding citizen either.
Kellan and I made our way across the river, and he gave me a new address that made me frown.
“But they’re at the—”
“Tonight’s a test for you too, Alfie.”
What the fuck?
“Colm already picked up the cousins,” he finished. “They’re at a safehouse now.”
I clenched my jaw, immediately irritated and on edge. “I don’t appreciate being fucking blindsided, mate.”
“Then you’re in the wrong business,” he told me. “And get off your high horse. Everyone’s gotta prove themselves somehow. You think we’re gonna give you all the ins and outs without making sure you can get your hands dirty? This is something you’re gonna have to get used to. We put low-men on shipments to create a distance between them and us, but someone’s gotta manage those low-men when they step outta line.”
I did my best to swallow my annoyance. I wasn’t sitting on a high horse—fuck him for saying that—but…maybe I could concede to being naïve.
This was the gig I had accepted. Aside from scheduling sit-downs, it was my job now to work the logistics of some shipments coming up from Florida. According to Kellan—and Finn, for that matter—nine times outta ten, shit went smooth and I wouldn’t have to leave my house. I just had to orchestrate the location, make sure those coordinates reached the drivers, and check in with the low-men who redistributed the merchandise. Each shipment required three guys for unloading, with Colm providing someone for security too, and then the contents of one truck disappeared into three vans going to separate warehouses.
The merchandise was a mixed bag of coke from Colombia, smuggled prescription drugs from Mexico, amphetamines from Asia, stolen goods like art, jewelry, and car parts—a shit-ton of car parts—knock-off branded cigarettes and booze.
Nine times outta ten, shit went smooth…
Was this the tenth time, then?
“Any more surprises tonight?” I asked. “Don’t bullshit me, Ford.”
“Depends if you consider the boss’s presence a surprise.”
I whipped my head his way and gave him a quick, incredulous stare. “He’s gonna be there?”
He nodded once and shrugged. “He gets bored sometimes and shows up like a surprise piss test—and you better not pop hot.”
Jesus Christ.
“In addition,” he said, lighting another smoke, “don’t ever tell me what to do. You’re already being fast-tracked into the syndicate because of your DNA. You better take whatever bullshit we throw at you with a smile on your face.”
I pressed my lips shut and didn’t respond. He…had a point, and it pissed me off. I knew my position was good. Better than most. New members with their usual low ranks never even saw Finn, unless it was from a distance in church. I’d declined countless sit-downs with crew bosses because they wanted to discuss insignificant drama they should handle on their own, most often involving new recruits.
Filling the crews with fresh blood was a job for crew bosses, whether they became full-fledged Sons at some point or they were freelancers taking on gigs for the time being. If you didn’t run your own crew or carry some other important position, you didn’t get a sit-down with Kellan. Period. And here I was, attending barbecues and exchanging pleasantries with Emilia on Instagram.
Goddammit.
I cleared my throat and stopped at a red light. “Can you check my ass later? I think your whip left a mark.”
He barked out a laugh and leaned over, and he smacked a loud kiss to my cheek. “Good answer, you crazy motherfucker. It’s what makes you family.”
I exhaled a chuckle. I’d thought it was my DNA that made me family.
But this was better. You just had to take the reaming, and then the pain was over.