Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
A hard hand landed on my back. “Knew it.” I looked up to see Beau Ayers, Tanner’s younger brother. I would recognize his graveled voice anywhere. “You’re no traitor.” Beau looked back at his big brother. They looked nothing alike. Beau had longish brown hair and brown eyes. And Beau Ayers was a damn fortress. Kept to himself. Had no one around him except his brother. And me on occasion.
Right now was the most I’d ever heard the brother speak since we’d met. “He wasn’t the same without you. He’s only on leave from the army for a few more weeks. The minute he heard what happened, he told everyone he could that it was bullshit. That he’d bet his life there was some mistake.” Beau rocked awkwardly on his feet, crossing his bulking arms over his chest. “My brother’s always right.”
Guilt cut through me, thick and fast. Tanner had trusted me. Defended me.
Beau walked away, disappearing into the ranch house, keeping the fuck away from everyone else. I scanned around for Tanner, but there was no sign of him. The liquor flowed; the “welcome homes” flowed too.
An arm hooked around my neck. “Tank!” Calvin Roberts’s drunken voice hit my ears. I looked up to see a crowd of my brothers gathering around me. Calvin held up his bottle of liquor to get everyone’s attention. “Tell us what went down that day. When you fucking ended Keon Walters and his crew. We’ve all heard the stories. Jerked off to the description of the fucking kills. But we wanna hear it from your mouth. One of the real fucking heroes.”
Keon Walters. That name pierced through my skull. Keon . . . Keon . . . Keon . . . His face flashed before my eyes. His battered face. The feel of his shoulders under my hand, and the smell of his blood as it pooled on the floor . . .
“What?” Landry answered his cell. We were driving back from making a deal with the Aryan Brotherhood. More allies for the war that was coming. Landry hung up without saying anything else. But his face had frosted over to fucking ice, and he jerked on the steering wheel, suddenly heading right. His foot was lead on the gas.
“What’s going on?” I asked, my heart starting to pound knowing something was big was going down.
“Keon and his crew are out near Marble Falls. Cutting some deal on our fucking soil.” Landry was so filled with rage that he spat when he spoke. I felt the familiar heat of hate travel through my veins, lighting me the fuck up inside. My leg bounced, itching for the fight I knew was coming.
“Brant just called it in. They’re there now, waiting for us.” Nodding, I reached into my jeans and pulled out my knife and gun. My shoulders tensed, my eyes scanning around us as Landry pushed his truck to its fastest speed.
Keon Walters was a piece of shit. Trying to come onto our soil and trade guns out from under us. I glanced at Landry. His face was beet red. Keon Walters had fucked up three months ago when he’d taken out Landry’s childhood best friend. Roy Harris had been shot through the head.
Keon Walters had held the gun.
Landry had been waiting for this day.
“Five of them,” Landry said, clearly referring to how many of Keon’s men were making the deal. “The black bastard is there too.” Landry smiled. It was the coldest fucking smile I’d ever seen.
My heart beat faster, excitement at the thought of Keon dying a slow and painful death under our white hands making my dick hard. I gripped my knife tighter, putting my gun into the waistband of my jeans. A minute later, I jumped out of the truck into fucking chaos. Brant and Charles were charging across the back street, guns firing back at Keon’s crew, who were taking cover behind dumpsters. A slug made its hit on Charles, and his body slumped to the floor.
I glanced down, seeing his eyes wide open and a bullet wound in his head. My hands gripped the knife so tight I almost broke the fucking handle. “Cunt!” I snarled and started running across the street. I made it to the first fucker before he’d even had the chance to run. I stabbed the knife into his tattooed neck and watched him drop to the ground, his crew’s colored bandana dropping beside him.
I moved to the next asshole, taking my gun from my jeans and sending a bullet straight into the impure fucker’s heart. I smiled, a cold damn smile, as his eyes locked on me and blood dripped from his mouth. The last thing he’d ever see was a Klan brother, smiling at him as he drained of life.
“Tank!” I snapped my head to the back of the far-off dumpster. Landry was fighting to keep one of the bastards in his grip. The closer I ran, the faster my pulse raced. Keon Walters. Brant appeared beside me—cut up, injured, but fighting on. He’d taken out a couple of these pricks too.