If only I didn’t have to worry about my late father’s business, things would be perfect.
The thought of “just sell it and get the fuck out” once again ran through my brain, but again, I shut it down.
This whole plan would be the biggest fuck you to all involved.
Every person that expected me to fail.
Every asshole that helped fund my father’s assistant’s plan to keep me in jail for as long as possible.
In the end, they would all pay.
I’d take all of their money.
I’d take all of their clients.
I’d build this entire empire up before bringing it right back to the ground.
Fuck anyone and everyone that invested in it.
They could all rot in hell for all I cared.
I had to focus on the long game.
Not the short term, which was telling me that this whole plan was going to take forever, and maybe my stress level couldn’t handle it.
At least I got to work with Keely while I saw my plan through.
She knew the plan.
She approved of the plan.
She had no love lost for my dad’s business, either.
She barely kept it afloat after my grandfather finally wrestled it free from the hands of the corrupt board.
Not that I cared.
I was just glad there was something left of it for me to ruin.
“No brothers tonight?”
I looked up and grinned at my club brother, Hagrid.
These men had taken me in when I was eighteen as a prospect and had patched me into the fold when I was in prison.
I might’ve not gotten into the Truth Tellers MC the traditional way, but I’d made myself invaluable to them in the only way I could.
For fifteen years, I’d settled Truth Tellers’ debts in prison, and now I was finally able to do that for them as a “free” man.
As free as a man could be who had a felony under his belt, anyway.
“Chevy’s in his room,” I answered. “Cutter’s baking cakes or some shit. I’m not sure. Milena had him busy, though, so he doesn’t plan on coming.”
“Cakes?” Cakes asked. “What kind?”
I snorted. “You would be curious about that.”
Cakes got his road name Cakes because he made fuckin’ awesome cakes.
