Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Even if it comes with the roar of engines at all hours, gunshots from their—can’t possibly be legal—shooting range, and parties that could wake the dead. My eyes slide back to where the other two men are carefully investigating the skeleton. Okay, apparently not waking the dead, but they are really loud.
And I’ve seen the headlines. They aren’t weekend warriors.
Besides, I might have only moved in last month, but I heard plenty over the years, both from Grandma, and from my friend Grace who used to live down the street before the Outlaw Sons started buying up everything in this neighborhood they could get their hands on.
My heart skips a beat. I’m such an idiot.
They could be the reason there’s a body in my backyard. And if I just exposed it… How many days would it take before someone noticed I was missing?
“You good?” Blackout asks. He steps a little closer and drapes a heavy arm over my shoulders, pulling me close to his chest. “Don’t blame you for getting a little freaked out. It’s probably nothing, but finding shit like that must be scary.”
“Mmhm!” I hum a little too loud, and nod a little too fast, clutching the shovel to me. “Should we be calling the police?” I ask nervously.
Blackout snorts. “Fuck no.”
Right. Of course not.
His arm isn’t exactly stopping me from moving away, but it’s clear he’s staying close and I’m not sure if he’s trying to be comforting, or to keep me from bolting.
“What do you see?” he calls over to his friends.
The one wearing the baseball cap takes it off and wipes an arm over his forehead. That has to be Skyhigh, right? It would be silly if the guy with the dragon tattoo wasn’t Dragon. He sits back on the heels of his black leather boots with something in his hand that I try to ignore in case it’s another bone or something equally gross. “Not sure. Definitely not one of mine. It’s too intact,” he says with a laugh.
“What?” I squeak, actively trying to pull away, but the arm around me just gets tighter.
“Shut the fuck up, smartass! You’re scaring the girl,” Blackout snaps. “Don’t listen to him, honey. He’s joking.”
Hilarious.
The one I’m assuming is Dragon ignores them, focused on working the blade of a frighteningly long knife into the dirt to get something free. I wonder if he got his nickname because of the tattoo or the other way around. But more than that, I wonder what kind of life he lives to be carrying that knife around all the time, and if I’ll live to find out what he found.
He doesn’t make us wait long. “Unless werewolves are real, I think we're good.” His quiet laugh is as dry as the bones I found. He holds up a discolored length of bone. It’s part of a long jaw, still filled with teeth that are very clearly not human.
“A dog?” I ask, a little embarrassed if that’s all it is, but relieved.
“Big fucker,” Skyhigh comments, nodding. “That’s not your standard mutt. This was your family’s place, right? You don’t remember any pets that could fit the bill?”
“N—no,” I stammer, thrown off by the question. “How do you know this was my family's house?”
He stands and walks our way, slipping his hand into his pocket and cocking his head at me. “Don’t play dumb, sweetheart. You know who we are.”
It’s a statement, not a question, and I nod.
“Then you know you’re living in our territory. We already own the rest of the street. Tried to put in an offer on this place when we heard the old lady died but the lawyer shut us down.”
I step out from under Blackout’s arm to get some distance, and this time he lets me. “She was my grandmother.”
He sighs. “Sorry for your loss. Can’t say I knew her, but she seemed decent.”
My face flushes and I can feel heat building behind my eyes. She lived a good, long life and it was her time, but I still miss her. “Thanks. She was the best.”
Dragon stands and joins his buddies. I don’t think they are trying to be intimidating, but they don’t have to. With the three of them towering over me, it’s impossible to feel anything but small and defenseless in comparison. Seeing bikers around the neighborhood is one thing, but having three of them right next to me is totally different. I’ve been sort of pretending they don’t know I’m here, but it’s clear that isn’t the case.
I take a couple more steps back and squeeze the handle of the shovel until my knuckles ache and I can feel the rough wood bite into my palm. “Well, thank you for the help. I’m sorry you came over here for something so stupid. You can go back to whatever you were doing.”