Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 40484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 202(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 202(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
El could only hope he’d gotten wiser since.
Trig stopped in the middle of the corridor and opened one of the doors before glancing at El with a stern expression. He switched on the light, and stepped back.
“Is this where you live?” El managed to whisper as he looked around the room with a big window by the bed, and a door leading into a tiled bathroom.
The space was the size of El’s now-former living room, with walls painted gray and exactly one poster above a massive bed that had been neatly made. At first glance, the room appeared utilitarian, since El spotted a single wardrobe behind the bed, along with a two-seater sofa facing a TV mounted on the wall, but once he stepped in, his gaze was drawn to two big display cases filled with colorful items. He was too surprised at first to realize what they were, but as he stepped closer, he realized it was a collection of mugs and glasses, each representing a region or city Trig must have visited in the past.
And while the sight of so many trinkets baffled El in the room of a man who used to carry his entire life in a small backpack, it told him everything about the way Trig saw the clubhouse.
He’d found a place where collecting mementos made sense. Someplace permanent.
Home.
The window was open to let in fresh air that had a hint of smoke from the barbeque, which added to the sense of domesticity. El instantly thought back to the cabin containing all his stuff, but which had never felt like the place he wanted to settle in. Would this room be any different? Could he fit into Trig’s life at the club? Get a cupboard of his own and a shelf in the bathroom? Maybe he could for once get separate bottles of soap, shampoo, and conditioner instead of the 3-in-1 he always opted for out of habit for always being ready to move.
His thoughts came to a halt when on a cork board filled with photos of Trig and his biker friends, El spotted several pictures featuring him. One, with the misguided aqua Mohawk, must have been taken three years ago, but others were either much older or more recent. El still wasn’t sure how he felt about Trig spying on him like that, yet he couldn’t help but think that it was sweet of Trig to put the photos up with the others, as if El had been there all along.
The lock clicked, making El flinch despite him knowing that he had nothing to fear in Trig’s presence. Force of habit. Since he’d ran away from home, this very sound usually meant trouble unless El was the one holding the key in his fingers.
He had reasons to worry about the decision taken behind closed doors downstairs, but he willed himself to calm down and faced the phantom from his past that now was painfully real.
“We contacted the cartel. You’re lucky the guys they sent after you were small fish,” Trig said. Straight to the point, as always.
El’s stomach clenched and covered in shards of ice. “Y-you contacted them?” he choked out in disbelief. “And admitted to what you did?”
“What else was I supposed to do? Hide you in the cellar?” Trig asked, removing his vest and placing it on a wooden rack for drying towels.
“Trig… they’re gonna go after both of us now.” El clenched his fists with helplessness. “I don’t want you to suffer for my stupid choices. I shouldn’t have taken the risk with the drug smuggling. Then you wouldn’t have had to—” He took a deep breath, because what was the point of discussing something that already happened?
Trig pushed back his unruly hair, peeking at El with intense eyes. “Look, I’m not a lone wolf anymore. My brothers are backing me in this, and the club is a large national organization. It’s more beneficial for the cartel to settle than wage an unnecessary war over three bums used for dirty work. I’m gonna pay off what you owe and do a job for the cartel to make up for the loss of men. And then it’ll be over.”
El watched him, dumbstruck. “But it’s my fault. Why should you pay for my mistakes? And the other guys are fine with this? They don’t owe me anything.”
“I know you have a hard time trusting people, but in this club we treat the other members like brothers. They’d fight for me the same way I’d fight for them,” Trig said and sat on the edge of the mattress, removing his boots with a tired sigh. He stalled when El didn’t comment and eventually looked up, his tanned face serious. “What about you? Do you want to be a part of this family with me?”