Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 53361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 267(@200wpm)___ 213(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 267(@200wpm)___ 213(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
“Hey.” Hannah moved closer, reaching out to touch my shoulder gently. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. We truly are grateful someone is willing to give us all a chance.” She smiled, squeezing my shoulder gently before dropping her hand.
“Um, can I ask a question?” I didn’t know why I asked her, but once I had, I intended to follow through.
“Of course.” She looked pleasantly curious.
“I saw a guy when I first came in today. He came out of that building,” I pointed back the way I’d come. “But he turned off his bike and rolled back into the shadows.” I swallowed hard. If I’d gotten too nosy I might well have crossed a line I shouldn’t have. But it was odd! Also, I might be feeling a little paranoid. But to my surprise, Hannah only smiled.
“The guys know this place isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. They also know that some people are scared of the noise, to say nothing of the men themselves. There’s not one of them who doesn’t look scary as hell.” She grinned. “But every single one of them sat through and energetically participated in the Christmas party they had for the women and children in the shelter they help protect. The kids adore them all.”
Before I could respond, movement behind her drew my attention. Another figure emerged from the clubhouse, moving with a deliberate slowness that made every step feel intentional.
My breath caught. He was big. Tall and broad-shouldered, big in the way that suggested power held in careful check. His shoulders stretched a gray T-shirt to its limits.
His head was shaved clean, and somehow, the man was more intimidating for its starkness. But it was his face that made my fingers tighten on the grocery bag I still held. Weathered. Lined with stress that had carved deep grooves around his mouth and between his eyebrows. He looked like a man who’d forgotten how to relax, if he’d ever known.
He approached with that same measured pace, each footfall deliberate. The way he moved reminded me of documentaries I’d seen about predators. Not rushing. Never rushing. Because predators didn’t need to hurry when they knew their prey couldn’t escape. My heart, which had just started to calm, kicked back into overdrive.
“Cora, this is Rancor.” Hannah gestured between us, casually as if introducing neighbors at a barbecue. Thank God she didn’t notice my discomfort because how embarrassing would that be? “He’s going to help with the groceries.”
His gaze met mine, and I forced myself not to look away even though every instinct screamed at me to drop my gaze. His eyes were dark, nearly black in the shadow of the camo netting, and he studied me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.
“Ma’am.” His voice was quiet and rough, as if he didn’t use it much.
“Hi.” The syllable came out higher than I wanted. I cleared my throat. “There are a lot of bags.” Brilliant conversational skills, Cora. Truly impressive.
But Rancor just nodded, a single dip of his head, and moved past me to the trunk. He smelled like soap and motor oil, the combination oddly intriguing. I stepped back, giving him room.
He reached into the trunk and pulled out several bags at once, hoisting them like they weighed nothing. His forearms flexed, muscles shifting under skin decorated with what looked like a burn scar. Then he turned and walked toward the clubhouse at that same deliberate pace.
“So.” Hannah’s voice pulled my attention back to her. She’d moved closer, filling the space Rancor had vacated. “You deliver every day?”
“Most days.” I watched Rancor’s back as he walked away, the way his T-shirt stretched across his shoulders. “Depends on the orders.”
“That’s a lot of driving.” Hannah leaned against my car, comfortable in a way I envied. “You like it?”
Did I like it? I liked eating. I liked having electricity. I liked not being homeless. My job met those ends.
“It’s fine,” I said. “Flexible schedule.”
Hannah’s smile widened. Not mocking. Understanding. “Money talks?”
“Sometimes, I guess.” No point in pretending otherwise. My car was clean, inside and out, and I took care with my appearance. I didn’t have anything fancy, nor did I know how to do makeup or whatnot, but I kept myself clean, my clothes washed and pressed. Obviously, I didn’t have much, but I had my pride.
Rancor emerged from the clubhouse, empty-handed now, heading back toward us. My pulse quickened at his proximity. Stupid. His presence made my pulse jump and my body betray me. I’d seen good-looking men before, both nice guys and dipshits. For some reason, though, this guy just did it for me when he shouldn’t. Story of my life. Wanting things I had no business dreaming about.
He reached the trunk and grabbed another few bags. This time when he lifted them, his eyes cut to mine briefly. Just a flicker of contact, there and gone, but it jolted through me like touching a live wire. I looked away first. Examined my shoes as if they held the secrets of the universe.