Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition Elizabeth Knox (cheapest way to read ebooks .txt) 📖

the pretty pink spatula at me. “You’re late again next week, and I’m feeding your share to the dog next door.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She’d say the same thing again next week when I was late.

And the week after that too.

Sunday lunch had been a thing since well before my uncle and Exiled Eight MC President, Bishop, showed up at The Valley and rescued me.

Bishop’s Old Lady, Lucy, had been doing it since the two of them had what Bishop thought was a one-night stand twenty years ago, only to find her feeding his brothers the next morning. He always said when it came to women, and you knew she was it, you fucking knew.

And he never let her leave.

At least, not willingly.

A heart defect she’d had since she was a baby eventually caught up with her, and ten years ago it finally gave in.

I watched Bishop almost give in too.

If it hadn’t been for Calliope, he just might have. The kid was only seven when she watched her mom die. We buried Lucy on a Sunday morning, and Calli was in the kitchen that same day, continuing the legacy her mom left behind.

“Where’s your dad?”

Calli pulled another tray of biscuits from the oven, placing them on the counter. “He’s out the back. There are some guys out there I haven’t met before,” she answered, now far more focused on the feast she was preparing, though it didn’t stop the visible shudder that moved down her spine. “The big one creeps me out.”

I paused with my plate full, a deep frown knotting my brow.

Calliope grew up with a group of the hardest, scariest fucking men around. It took a fucking lot to rattle her.

My brothers were scattered through the house, some out front eating on the porch and others in the dining room down the hall. I grabbed a beer from the fridge before heading out through the living room and down the hallway to the back door, the chorus of unfamiliar laughter leading me.

Several sets of eyes looked up as the screen door slammed shut behind me, silence for just a second before Bishop waved me over. “I was wondering when you’d fucking get here.”

I eyed the other guys at the table as I slipped onto the end of the long bench. “I wanted to get some shit finished before I left the construction guys to it.”

“Bishop was saying you’re a bit behind,” the largest guy announced, looking at me like we were good friends. “You want some good work done? I’ve got a cousin who can do it in half the time for half the price.”

“And I’ve got a cousin who can swallow a whole banana without gagging, but I don’t get him to suck my di—”

“Hawk, this is Robert,” Bishop interrupted casually, gesturing to the largest of the men with a fork loaded with mashed potato. “He and his boys are going to be doing the security at the bar when we open. Robert, this is Hawk, my VP, and also my nephew.”

He thrust his hand across the table as if I were going to take it and welcome him to the family with a pat on the back and a high-five. Instead, I looked at it for a second before turning my attention to my food.

It took him a few seconds, but eventually, he withdrew his handshake offer and played it off with a laugh. “When you’re hungry, you’re hungry, right?”

I filled my stomach, listening to the bastard rattle on for another ten minutes about the people he knew, the skills he had, and how fucking lucky we were to have him. I kept eyeing Bishop out of the corner of my eye. For a man who didn’t put up with any fucking bullshit, he was surprisingly okay with this loud-mouth asshole and his tall tales.

“I’ve got shit to do,” Bishop finally announced when Calli stepped outside. If you were a man and not a part of the club, you weren’t allowed within ten feet of Bishop’s baby girl. “I’ll get the club lawyer to write up some contracts, and you can come in and sign them next week.”

Robert grinned across the table at us, his round face lighting up. “Sounds fucking great,” he responded, thrusting his hand across the table again. Bishop shook it, the men both getting to their feet. “I think this will be the start of a great fucking working relationship.”

I sat back in my seat, refusing to get up and acknowledge him with more than a narrowed glare.

“I’m sure it will be,” Bishop answered with a nod, looking up at Robert. The first time I’d seen him ever look up at fucking anyone. At six foot two with a body like a linebacker, Bishop wasn’t a tiny man. Robert, though, dwarfed him by about six inches and two hundred pounds. Hence, the reason he and his team had just been offered the job of security for The Exiled Eight’s new sports bar. “I’ll get someone to call you when the contracts are ready.”

“I’ll see you both real soon,” Robert responded, his gaze turning to me. “Hawk.”

I offered him a sharp nod.

That was all he was getting, much to Bishop’s amusement, my president falling into his seat with a smirk as Robert waddled back through the house.

“You didn’t like him?”

“What was there to like?” I threw back with a snort.

“He’s big—”

“And fucking stupid,” I finished for Bishop.

It wasn’t an understatement.

During his spiel about how fucking awesome he was, he’d rambled on about how he had trained himself to sniff out police officers, just like a fucking drug dog. And I wasn’t even about to relive the way he spoke about how irresistible he was to women because they saw him as this giant teddy bear.

“Stupid to you might be a negative, but to me, it just means easier to control and too dumb to try and fuck with us,” Bishop explained, reminding me once again why he was the fucking president.

That was in his blood.

And