Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
We pass by a huge firepit. Handcrafted Adirondack chairs litter the area around it. Several picnic tables dot the space around that. And near the tree line is a volleyball court with sand.
What kind of bougie biker summer camp is this place?
Finally, at one end of the property, near more trees, is what must be the clubhouse. It looks like an extension of the massive one I first saw, but maybe less ornate and more functional. Nees walks inside, not bothering to hold the door for me. I push inside and am met with glorious air conditioning. I groan in relief.
I miss the Pacific Northwest already.
We don’t even need the AC half the time.
Oklahoma may as well be the armpit of hell.
Or maybe that’s just the smell coming from my body.
The interior of the clubhouse is rustic in decor. There’s a full bar and pool table just off the main living room area. Nees goes down a long hallway and then disappears into a room on the right.
“This one’s you,” he says, jabbing a finger at the bed where my suitcase sits. “Shower’s in there.”
I stand inside the bedroom that’s decorated with football shit. Gareth was the football guy. Organized sports bore me.
“Hope you like OU,” Nees says with a snort. “It’s the stupidest room in this place. Don’t tell my mom. She had a hand in decorating this as a favor to Dad.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, voice raspy from having sweat out every last drop of moisture in my body. “What the fuck is going on? One second you people are threatening to cut my throat and now I’m a welcomed guest of a frat boy Airbnb ran by strangely named bikers?”
Nees barks out a laugh. “It’s a wonder you’re still alive with that mouth on you. Dragon’s getting soft in his old age. I blame Cove. That maniac is dick whipped over his ‘Baby Prospect.’”
Again, this kid speaks in riddles.
“Look,” Nees says with a one-shouldered shrug. “If they wanted you gone, you’d be gone. My advice to you is to clean up and dial back the attitude. Bermuda has breakfast going. I’ll bring you back something.”
“What about LuLu?”
He smirks. “PG and Stormy are mother-henning her. She’s good. At the big house, they have her in a room by the nursery, catering to her every whim.”
“LuLu doesn’t have whims. She just wants her iPad, snacks, a comfy chair, and to be left alone.”
“I’ll pass that on, dude. Shower. My eyes are watering.”
Once he leaves, I shut the door behind him. My mind races with escape plans, but the truth is, I’m outnumbered by these men. LuLu is in their home and being looked after. They seemed to be pissed off at the thought of me being her kidnapper or whatever the fuck they thought. There may be more to these men than meets the eye.
The shower is spacious and nice. And, thankfully, not one piece of OU memorabilia in sight. My clothes, soaked with sweat, have to be peeled from my body. I should toss them in the firepit later.
I groan under the icy spray of water, letting it quickly cool me off before turning the water to a relaxing hot. Unused toiletries like soap, shampoo, shaving cream, and even a fresh razor await me. Because I’m spoiled and used to excess, I take advantage of each and every one. If I close my eyes, I can almost pretend my life is back to normal.
What is normal, though?
Searching for Calista. My sister that doesn’t exist. All along it was a damn doll. The real girl I couldn’t get out of my head was Romy.
It’s so obvious now.
I haven’t felt so clearheaded since before my parents’ deaths. It’s as if I’m finally dragging myself out of a lifelong fog and seeing the world for the first time.
Living at my nice home, doing nefarious work in an effort to find my sister, is not my normal. It’s an unfortunate past. All that matters now is the future.
Get LuLu to her family.
Find Romy.
And…
My stomach tightens. Kaitlyn. Where in the hell is the little girl Gareth adopted? The memories are packed in tight and now it’s a matter of sorting through them. As much as I want to dissect the hows and whys, my mind keeps looping back to Romy.
Her mouth is decadent. Swollen, pink lips. Sweet taste of vanilla on her tongue. Breathy moans when kissed just right.
I stop soaping my body to look down at my erect cock. How long has it been since I had sex? Was it the last time I was with Romy?
Fake fiancée.
The thought is abrupt, and I don’t like it. I can tell it’s a real memory, but the feelings burning hot through my veins say otherwise. Gripping my cock with my soapy hand, I close my eyes to see Romy more clearly.