Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 137310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Hands Up was pulling Nuts Busted straight and talking trash. “Was a shit bar anyway.”
“Good you won’t miss it,” Harlan muttered.
Hands Up, Nosebleed and Nuts Busted dragged Barstool, who was regaining consciousness, to his feet, at the same time they glared at Harlan. Pete noticed their attention often bounced to Rush, who was standing not near, but not far, from Harlan’s back.
They ignored Pete. Then again, even he had to admit he wasn’t much of a threat.
Harlan didn’t move, nor did Rush or Pete as they watched the four men make their way to an SUV.
They still didn’t move as the vehicle drove out of the parking lot.
Once it exited the lot, Harlan turned to them.
He glanced at Rush, but his focus settled on Big Petey.
“If I wanted in, I’d have hit the Compound, man.”
“You ride,” Pete replied.
Harlan’s wide shoulders went up and down. “Lotta men ride bikes. That don’t mean they got patches.”
True.
But this was Jackie’s boy.
“It’s time,” Pete replied.
Harlan shook his head. “I’m not a joiner.”
“Joker isn’t either, but he’s a brother. Snapper, the same,” Pete told him. “It isn’t about joining, son. It’s about family.”
Harlan had a mess of blond-brown hair and a full, thick beard that couldn’t decide if it wanted to be blond or brown, and there was even some black vying for space.
Pete could still see his lips thin in that mass of whiskers at the mention of family.
Pete was too old for this shit.
And he was tired.
He’d survived two wars with his Club. They’d lost men, to both death and dishonor. They’d put their asses on the line. They’d seen their women in danger.
Personally, he’d watched his only child, his beautiful daughter, waste away from cancer.
But he had to do this. He had to find the energy for it.
This had to happen.
For Harlan.
For Jackie.
Therefore, Pete pulled out the big guns.
“She’d want you with us, Harlan,” he said quietly. “You know that. You know it, son. I heard her say it myself.”
It was all about direct eye contact, until Pete said that.
When those words came out, Harlan looked away.
And Pete knew he was right.
He also knew Jackie died wanting that for her boy. She wanted that purpose, that solidness, that brotherhood for her only child.
And she died without him having it.
Rush entered the discussion.
“Listen, this decision doesn’t need to be made now. We’re havin’ a get-together Saturday. It starts at one o’clock. Come whenever. It’s FFO. That way, you’ll get a feel of us. Be able to make an informed decision.”
And we’ll get a feel for you, he did not say, but Pete knew that was a part of it.
Rush was too young to know.
Tack knew. Hound. Hop. Dog. Brick. High. Arlo. Boz.
They all knew.
Rush didn’t know.
Pete had told him, but he didn’t know.
Harlan already was one of them.
The tightness in Pete’s chest relaxed a hint when Harlan asked, “What’s FFO?”
“Friends and family only,” Rush answered.
Now it was direct eye contact with Rush. A lot of it. And it lasted awhile.
Finally, Harlan said, “We’ll see.”
Both he and Rush knew that was as good as they were going to get.
They left it at that and walked to their bikes.
They’d see on Saturday.
And on Pete’s part, he’d hope.
And that hope was all for Jackie.
Diana
Tucson, Arizona
Several years earlier from Big Petey and Rush’s visit to the bar…
Was this happening?
Was this crap really, freaking happening?
I pushed. I shoved. I bit. I scratched.
And I shouted.
Had everyone gone deaf?
It was late, but a woman shouting didn’t wake at least one person up?
Not to mention, we were in a college dorm. Half the occupants didn’t get to sleep until early morning hours, if they slept at all.
But no one came.
And this was happening.
I could not let it happen.
The problem was, the longer it went on, the more I felt like I was slipping into a haze. The disbelief was retreating, the fear was increasing, he was so obviously stronger than me, the hope was fading that I’d be able to get away, and for some shit reason, my mind was taking this opportunity to shut down.
Suddenly, though, I got my opening and did not hesitate to haul up my knee as hard as I could, and I slammed his balls into his pelvis.
He grunted, moaned, rolled off me, grabbing his crotch, and I immediately rolled the other way, off the narrow twin bed in my dorm room where he’d forced me.
Once I got steady on my feet, I realized how hard I was breathing. I could actually feel my heart pounding in my chest, my skin tingling with the rush of adrenaline and fear.
And, thinking of nothing but being absolutely certain he was incapacitated, I punched him in his dick with all the power I could muster.
It was a cheap shot in a vulnerable area, but for heaven’s sake, the guy was trying to rape me.