Page 11 of The Devil's Curve


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“Not the best, but better than what we have now.”

“If that junk brings in heat that puts attention on us…”

“We know where it’s coming from. Sledge and his dogs don’t give a damn about that, Reese.”

“Then it’s time we take them to the pound, Prez,” Reese said with a cocky grin.

Levi laughed. “Meeting’s over. Go get a drink. Have someone relieve a little of that tension.”

“You worrying about my dick that much makes me wonder if there’s something wrong with yours,” Reese said.

“I’m doing just fine here,” Levi said.

He pointed to the door and they both walked in silence.

When Reese opened the door, he saw that all the guys were surrounding one of the pool tables in the clubhouse. They were all cheering and making grossed out noises.

“What the hell is this?” Levi asked.

Reese figured it had something to do with Hawk. Maybe he had a woman on the table and was demonstrating his fingers trick he had been talking about at the table. Reese pushed through the guys and finally saw what was happening. It was Hawk, but it wasn’t what he expected. To put it lightly, Hawk was making sure that Richie kept up with his orders of where to put that shot glass. And it was happening right on display.

“Hey, VP, check it out,” Hawk said.

“You all have issues,” Reese said. “And when he’s done here, throw that fucking glass out. Then give our prospect here a stiff drink and a little attention from one of therelievers.”

“I was hoping for a bullet to the head,” Brett said.

“No! Please no!” Richie cried out, bent over the pool table.

“Nah,” Reese said. “See if he can survive this and still get it up and enjoy himself. Either way, he’s not going to make the cut.”

“Please! Reese! VP!” Richie cried out.

“You don’t get to call him that, asshole,” Hawk said.

Reese waved at Hawk to shut up and he stepped forward and put his boot right to Richie’s ass. He gave a hard kick forward, knowing it had to damn well hurt the prospect. That shot glass was going to no longer be seen.

As Richie toppled to the floor in pain, starting to get sick on the floor, Reese looked to a couple of other prospects.

“Clean the floor and take him to the hospital,” Reese said. “Liquor him up and tell the doc he got drunk and curious about his body.”

“Damn,” Hawk said. “You’re vicious, VP.”

“Remember that,” Reese said.

He pushed back through the guys and went to the bar for a drink. With a fresh beer in hand, he walked away from all the action.

When he got to his room, he sat down on the corner of his bed and took a big drink. He didn’t need the obituary to know what it said. He had read that thing a million times and had it memorized by heart. Word for word. He’d lived through it. He’d watched it all happen. It should have been a wakeup call to leave the MC life, but it only shoved him deeper into it. Then again, it was the wakeup call for someone else to leave the MC life.

Reese gritted his teeth and heard the creak of a door behind him.

He reached for his gun, stood, turned, and watched someone emerge from the bathroom.

A woman was standing in one of Reese’s flannels, her long legs showing, her dark hair pulled back.

“Jesus, woman,” Reese said.

“Is this okay?” she asked.

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