Hammer's Pride by E.C. Land (top non fiction books of all time .txt) 📗

while removing my helmet. I put the helmet on the seat of my bike and head for the coffee shop situated two doors down from the tattoo shop.

Malice walks next to me; neither of us speaks a word as we head for the entrance to this place. Why the fuck they would choose to meet here is fucked. We could have easily met up at one of our houses or even at the tattoo shop, for fuck’s sake.

Opening the door, I step into the shop with Malice right on my heels. Without takin’ my sunglasses off, I scan the room finding Gunner and Cy both sitting at a table off to the side of the place. Both men having Styrofoam cups in their hands and eating something.

Storming over to them, I don’t pay attention to anything else in the room.

“Wanna tell me why we’re meeting here?” I demand, standing next to their table with my arms crossed.

“Prez, VP,” Gunner grumbles in greeting, nodding to the seats on either side of him and Cy.

Removing my sunglasses, I put them on top of my head and take a seat. Malice rounds the table and sits in the one opposite of me.

“Now tell me what the fuck is going on,” I snap, frustrated by everything going on. All I wanted to do is get back to the clubhouse, find a bitch to either suck me off or to fuck, get some work done, and crash.

“Seems we have someone in the club we can’t trust. It’s why we’re here rather than at one of our businesses,” Gunner says without hesitation.

“Explain,” I command, my body tense with fury.

Gunner looks to Cy and then brings his attention back to me. “Problems you sent me back to handle, Prez, is we’ve found out there’s a new gang in town trying to fuck with us. And to top it off, we’ve got a rat in the clubhouse.”

“Who?” Malice snarls, his lip curling in disgust.

“Don’t know yet. Cy’s been working on it, and the two of us have found bugs planted in all of our businesses,” Gunner mutters with a shake of his head.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“This is not something we need right now. It’s bad enough we’ve got the shit going on at the national charter with Stoney’s men and brought home a bitch who ain’t ever gonna be right again. Now we’ve some traitor in our midst, and we don’t know who. At least tell me do we know who this new gang is?” I don’t need this shit right now.

“No clue yet. Have Brass, Savage, Dagger, and Carbine watching at the bars and strip club,” Gunner says, informing me.

“Right, who do we know we can trust?” I demand, trying to contain my rage brewing inside me. I pride myself on keeping shit locked down tight, but the only emotion that seems to slip through at times is anger. This only happens when things start to get completely out of control.

“Looks like all the brothers can be trusted. But the prospects, clubwhores, hang arounds, and strange pussy are all up in the air,” Cy states with a gravelly voice. He doesn’t talk much due to the murmur that causes him to stutter; this makes his voice thicker than normal when he does talk.

Shit.

“Alright, we need to meet with the brothers. Find a place we can do that that’s secure, and we’ll go from there,” I mutter.

“Need to have the whole clubhouse swept for bugs and the businesses,” Malice grunts.

“Yeah. We’ll get started on this tomorrow. For now, I’m heading home. Fuck going to the clubhouse tonight. I’ll deal with shit in the morning,” I growl and slam a fist on the table as I get up. I need sleep before in order to think about this shit to figure out what to do next.

Turning from the table, I start to take three steps and plow right into some woman, knocking her right on her ass. I glance down at the woman to find her staring up at me with vibrant eyes that are filled with fear.

Motherfucker.

Can this day get any worse?

Chapter Three

Avery

I’d seen him when he came in. My heart fluttered in my chest, and the blood in my veins stilled.

The first thought to pop into my head being, holy shit, this guy has to be the sexiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on. And that’s saying something considering the bikers who have been in here.

About thirty minutes before Mr. Hottie stepped into my coffee shop, I noticed my neighbor who lived across the street from me come in with another guy. They’d ordered coffee and had sat at one of the few tables I had situated off to the side.

Most people, when they come in it’s get coffee and dash out of here. But I do have a few who want to sit at a table and drink their coffees. So, I’d invested in getting eight tables and chair sets. Three of them are square with a four-chair set up, while the other five are smaller and meant for two chairs.

My neighbor and his friend sat at a four-chair one, and then Mr. Hottie strolled into the place like he owned it with another hot guy behind him. His sunglasses in place and his jaw set firm like this is the last place he wanted to be.

I didn’t mean to bump into him. I’d been wiping a set of tables after clearing them when it happened. I wasn’t paying attention, and I should have.

Damnit.

I bumped into him right when he stood to leave. Well, not really bumped, more like I crashed into him due to not paying attention to where I was walking. My brain, I guess you could say, isn’t functioning to its capable abilities, and I screwed up.

Why does this have to happen to me?

Staring up at the man, my eyes widen at just how tall he is. Maybe it’s due to when I crashed into him, I fell backward,