Daddies Underground MC Club
The table erupts in laughter, but I’m already vibrating, whiskey sloshing in the bottle as I slam it down hard enough to crack the glass.
“Oh, that’s poetry,” I crow, voice pitching high and wild, bunny helmet spinning faster on my finger like a propeller. “I want that stitched on a goddamn patch—‘Left in a ditch with his own chain.’ Hell, I’ll mail their prez a bunny helmet engraved ‘Hop along, asshole, love, the Fallen Gods.’” I throw my head back and cackle, the sound bouncing off the rafters, and Caleb nearly chokes on his beer while King just shakes his head, grinning like he’s proud of the lunatic he’s allied with.
Chapitres populaires