Page 80 of Property of Stone
Most of the kitchen might still be original but the commercial-quality appliances had been updated a few years back. Better yet, the kitchen area was a lot bigger than the one at the house, giving her more room to work. She’d have more burners, ovens, fridge and freezer storage, a huge stock room, and all the rest of the shit she had gone nuts over when she saw it.
With her eyes lit up, sheooo’d andaah’d over shit he’d never think twice about.
She was also excited about having a fuckton of storage for some of her chef equipment, unlike back at the house. Atleast the shit she wouldn’t need to keep there to make them meals at home. A requirement of their agreement.
Since she’d be coming over to The Castle on a regular basis, he had given her a key to the gate. When he handed it to her, she had stared at it in surprise.
“Every time I’ve been here, the gate hasn’t been locked.”
“‘Cause there wasn’t a threat. Now there is.” Or would be soon as soon as that motherfucking ex of hers got sprung. “Gonna be locked twenty-four-seven ’til that threat’s been eliminated.”
Her brow furrowed. “Eliminated?”
Fuck. Maybe he should’ve picked a better word. Neutralized? Dispatched? Silenced? Buried six feet under? Floating down the Susquehanna River? “No longer a threat.”
“He’s not even out yet.”
“Stupid to get caught with our asses hangin’ out.”
He had told all his brothers, as well as the prospects and sweet butts, that they needed to stay vigilant and always keep the gates locked. If they saw anyone suspicious, they needed to let him or Ogre know.
Since security cameras had been installed around the exterior of the former school years ago, he had Nut Sack check all the feeds to make sure they were all functioning since they hardly ever checked them unless they had a reason.
It had been a long fucking time since they’d had a reason. Usually no one fucked with the Kings.
Not even the pigs.
He and his brothers were all fucking pros when it came to getting in and out of a situation without getting caught. On the slim fucking chance anyone was nabbed, then they knew better than to tie the crime to the club.
If they did…
Yeah, no one fucking did. They all knew the consequences after that prison or jail door opened again. If they even made it out still breathing.
A lot of his brothers, including Stone, still had connections on the inside in various facilities around the state. Prison was also a great place to recruit new prospects since some ex-cons didn’t have a place to land after doing their bid. The Kings gave them one in exchange for their loyalty. And that loyalty meant keeping their fucking traps shut whenever they found themselves sporting metal bracelets.
First rule of getting pinched: Don’t say shit except to demand an attorney.
Second rule: Don’t say shit until the club attorney—kept on retainer for good reason—arrived at the location they were being detained.
Even then, don’t say shit. The attorney was paid a goddamn fortune to flap his gums.
They drilled that into every new prospect’s gray matter.
Once the prospects moved everything Taryn would need into the kitchen—even some of her shit from the storage trailer—he asked her what else she’d need and she happily gave him a long list.
But what mattered to Taryn wasn’t what mattered to him. To Stone, the main benefit of having her recording at The Castle was that someone would always be around to keep an eye on her.
After a couple of the club girls had done the grocery shopping for Taryn, she cooked a huge meal for everyone last night.
While scarfing down the food, Stone swore his brothers all shot loads in their pants. No one had ever cooked anything that good in the club’s kitchen before. The pasta withhomemade fucking meatballs was shoveled into their pie holes like they hadn’t eaten in a goddamn week.
While Stone agreed the foodwasgood, in truth, most of them were probably stoned as fuck and had the munchies.
Today, she was back in the kitchen with a list of recipes she wanted to record to add content to her channel. The smell alone made Stone’s mouth water. No fucking surprise, his brothers were circling like a pack of starving dogs, just waiting for her to toss them scraps.
Yeah, he doubted she’d ever be alone while doing her thing here at the clubhouse. That peace of mind also meant Stone could go make some scratch later. He had two collection jobs to do today down in Lancaster County for a loan shark they worked with on the regular.
Bottom line: borrow money from a sketchy motherfucker and not pay it back? Better have that cash in your fucking pocket when Stone or one of his brothers showed up to collect what was owed and you hadn’t bothered to pay back.
