Page 4 of Property of Yak

“Not all of us enjoy the constant parties. Also, watch your language.”

“You and the no cussing thing. It’s endearing, but also a pussy block. Men don’t want to be chastised like you’re their mom.”

I ignore her as I climb into my car. “Liz, get to the point. I need to drive home, and you are now holding me up.”

“I have news. News worth celebrating. Please? Come?”

“Liz…”

“If you go with me, I promise I will take you to that concert you want to see in August. Who was it again?”

I sigh. “Foreigner. It wouldn’t kill you to listen to some music from decades past.”

“Decades. As in more than one. No thank you. I prefer the Top 100 hits. So, are you in?”

I rub my forehead. Liz has been my friend since I was a child. My father considers her a second daughter. She is always trying to get me out of my shell, but she wouldn’t push this hard if it wasn’t important.

“All right. Tell me where to meet you, and I will be there.”

“You are the best. I will even buy the tickets for the concert.”

“Yeah, yeah. Text me the details for tonight.”

“I will. Love you.” She pauses. “Oh, and wear something nice. You’ll be meeting someone.”

Before I can argue, she hangs up.

Of course she is setting me up on a blind date. I should have known better.

She means well, I know she does, but damn if she doesn’t make me want to cuss sometimes. Seeing as I don’t want to put money in my cuss jar, I won’t, but she makes it tempting.

I ignore the feeling in my gut as I turn on the car and head home.

It’s one night. How bad could it be?

Yak

I take another puff of my cigarette. It’s a nasty habit, but one that keeps me sane.

It’s either this or drinking, but knowing what we have going on here, I won’t alter my mind that way.

It’s been three months since I officially patched over to the Kings of Anarchy. It killed me to leave my Mountain River brothers, but they assured me I would have a place with them should I decide to come back.

Looking around the farm as I watch men load weapons into a discreet van, I wonder if I will be able to go back. How many dark marks on a soul does it take to truly lose it?

Whatever it is, I’m working toward it quickly.

My mind flashes back to my initiation. Usually it’s not something so drastic, but the club decided if I wanted to skip prospecting and proving myself the traditional way, they were going to need blood.

Not mine, though.

I have killed before and would happily do it again when in defense of someone I care about, but that night, I killed a man I didn’t even know. The only saving grace I had was Yooper assuring me afterward that he deserved it.

Still, it didn’t sit right with me. Nothing about this club does.

“You done with your smoke break, sweetheart?” Aragon calls out to me.

I take one last huff before snuffing out the butt.