Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Fucking Blaine. He didn’t get it, or didn’t want to get it, or what the fuck ever. Blaine needed to go. Dropping his jeans to the floor, Alec changed into a set of athletic shorts. He needed to run like crazy on the treadmill, let everything slide away until he could figure his shit out. The beep on the security system told him the gate had opened, and Blaine was leaving the property. Good riddance. Alec scrubbed a hand down his face and took a deep breath. He didn’t dwell. It wouldn’t change anything.
He’d shove this frustration deep down, hide it so completely, like he did all the pain in his life. Run. He needed to run.
=♥=
The sleep deprivation grew harder and harder to ignore. Keyes gave a jaw-cracking yawn as he stopped in the front yard of the two-bedroom house he shared with his worthless father. Apparently, the party had spilled from the clubhouse and appeared to have continued at his house based on the two additional Harleys parked in his regular spot in the driveway and the little beater car parked sloppily behind the bikes.
When he cut the engine, he could hear the Dicks blaring from the old CD player in his living room. His father’s favorite anthem, “Hate the Police,” screaming at him. With all certainty, Keyes knew “Rose Tattoo” would be next, again screaming their hate for society. All were songs Keyes had found for a playlist he’d created for his dad thirteen Christmases ago. A present that earned him a kick in the leg for its stupidity but that the man played over and over every time something like the raid happened to the club.
So they were in a mood tonight. Keyes sat there, staring at the tiny, rundown house. He should just go back to the clubhouse, take a room there. He knocked the kickstand of his Harley into place then ate up the distance to the front door. He’d need to pack a bag, have clothes for tomorrow.
The smell of pot hit him way before the front door ever opened. No matter how many times he’d walked in on this exact scene, it always startled him. His old man sat on one end of their old tweed sofa with a club whore riding his dick. Keyes’s stomach roiled as he tried to avoid the fucked-up visuals taking place on the sofa. He averted his eyes only to find two women taking care of the president—the prez’s wife was not one of them. That was the only reason Fox ever came to this part of town, to fuck filth in filth. Mack’s bike was also outside. The noises coming from the bathroom suggested much of the same happening in there. Fuck his life.
“What you lookin’ at? Damn perv.” His father huffed and grunted.
Keyes ducked his head and went straight back to his bedroom. Even with the rest of the house still in complete disarray from the raid, Keyes had taken the time to put his room back together. He was a clean freak. Liked his shit in order. Couldn’t sleep in such a mess. Besides, he didn’t have much to begin with. Keyes pulled the duffle off the shelf in his closet, grabbed his jeans, underwear, socks, and a T-shirt, then went for his hidden stash of toothbrushes. He never left that or his toothpaste out. After a few urine soaked toothbrushes, of course all in the name of fun, he’d learned to keep his shit hidden.
Grabbing his hairbrush and cologne, Keyes bent at the knee, reaching under his bed for his noise-cancelling headphones. He kept those hidden too. They’d be pawned as soon as his old man figured out he had them. Tossing the bag over his shoulder, he looked around the room for anything he’d forgotten as he absently lifted his long hair to tie in a knot at the top of his head. His cut—his patched leather vest—was in the storage compartment on his bike. He had his wallet. Keyes grabbed his phone charger, and he was good to go.
Stepping back out, Keyes quietly shut the door to his room. He kept his gaze averted as he walked back through the house. This time through, he spotted the coke on the coffee table. Something his very sick old man shouldn’t be doing.
“Dory, go show Keyes how to be a man so he’ll get that fuckin’ girlie bun out of his goddamn hair.” The sound of flesh being slapped followed that command. Keyes involuntarily looked over to see his father’s hand massaging the woman’s ass cheek. He shifted his gaze to Fox, but seeing Fox like that left an image Keyes was afraid he’d never be able to scrub out of his head.
To his annoyance, Dory immediately jumped up on his father’s command. Those women were shared among all of the men. His father’s health couldn’t survive a serious STD if he got one.