Blow Me Away (Seven Tribesmen Motorcycle Club Book 3) Read Online Free PDF

in?”
     
    “Wait, you don't think me and her are...That we're…” Newb eyes widened, as he stuttered for a few more indecipherable sputters.  Finally, his mouth snapped shut and he savagely shook his head.  “Boss, I'd sooner take a bullet to the roof of my mouth than disrespect you like that.”
     
    “What?” Bishop breathed.  Faintly, he wondered if he was so transparent.  Did his eyes light up when he saw Stella?  Did his shoulders deflate perceptibly when she left?  As quickly as those thoughts flew through his head, he slammed a mental wall down.  He had done nothing of the sor t— because he had no such emotions for Stella.  At least, that's what he told himself.
     
    “Coyote told me that you and her are...”  Newb paused, waving his hand, trying to find the best word.  “Intimately acquainted.”
     
    Bishop stared down at Newb for a few breaths.  The young man simply sat there, waiting, eyes never averting from Bishop's gray gaze.  Newb radiated earnest sincerity.  Bishop sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes.  He knew full well the newest member of the Seven Tribesmen wouldn't do anything to jeopardize his standing.  Newb was especially careful to not step on the toes of his higher-ups.  He took hazing with a grin and insults with a grain of salt.
     
    Bishop closed the door behind him.  Newb watched him intensely as Bishop neared the hospital bed.  They needed to get off of Stella as a topic.  Bishop licked his lips and shifted gears. “There's going to be a vote tonight.  We found out the Grave Demons have been supplying the Devil Spikes with blow.”
     
    “Shit.” Newb sagged back against the headboard.  Nervousness replaced the intense glint in his eyes.  His gaze shifted off into mid-distance, a faraway expression painting over his features.
     
    “Yeah,” Bishop grunted with a nod.  His brain shifted to auto-pilot, shifting to club business.  This was something he could handle; he’d just pretend the world outside the club didn't exist.  “We're going to need your proxy vote, Newb.”
     
    The young man instantly focused on his boss, again.  His brows furrowed, a question shooting from his lips. “For what?”
     
    “Retaliation and who do we go against.”  Bishop ignored how hollow his voice sounded.  It was just exhaustion teasing at his ears.  Everything felt numb, but deep down, an insufferable itch scrabbled along his thoughts.  “Do we wanna take out the Grave Demons, the Devil Spikes, or both right away?”
     
    “Man, boss, I don't know,” Newb grunted, bordering on a whine.  He shook his head again before running a hand through his scruff hair.  Even with his time in the hospital, the young man hadn't grown much scruff along his chin.  An odd thought struck Bishop suddenly.  It was always weird to remember how young Newb was, but coupled with his current environment, a sickness lurched through Bishop's gut.  Newb didn't seem to notice Bishop's nauseated expression as he muttered, “If we don't retaliate, they'll just keep comin'.”
     
    “Yeah,” grunted Bishop, forcing the bile back down his throat.  Newb, who was too young to grow a decent beard, was about to cast a vote concerning warfare and revenge.  A little part of Bishop began to understand Stella, but another part rallied against the foreign thought process.  Newb knew what he was getting into when he asked to become a prospective member.
     
    Newb continued his idle commentary. “But, two gangs?  Damn, boss.”
     
    “Tell me about it.”  Bishop's mouth felt like a different entity, pressing a conversation forward without his conscious effort.
     
    Silence fell between the two.  The hiss and beep of machines at Newb's bedside filled the quiet.  Outside, the muffled conversation between nurses and doctors filtered into the room.  A pang of guilt shot through Bishop, as he watched his youngest member.  Newb's expression strained, his eyebrows