Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77505 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77505 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Deals go bad. That’s part of life. But he had no idea how close he came to losing everything—until the man behind him drops and he realizes he’d been a target.
Then he’d been saved.
By her.
But she’s gone before he can figure out why she’d rescued him.
She didn’t mean to step in.
But after everything those guys took from her, she couldn’t stand around and watch them create any more damage.
And now she’s got more problems than she asked for.
The last thing she needs is another man in her way.
Too bad he’s isn’t the kind to walk away.
And when his club gets involved, things take a turn she’d never seen coming
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER ONE
Colter
“Do I want to know why there are four bras in the freezer?” Detroit asked. He had four steaks in his hand that he moved to a platter in the fridge to defrost.
“Three words,” I said, shooting him a smirk.
“Let me guess: Raff, Saint, and Syn.”
“Bingo.”
“Been a bit since the club was this insane,” Detroit said, shaking his head.
“You’re up and out early.”
“The kids and Everleigh all got a stomach bug. I’ve been forced into quarantine because, as she says, ‘One of us needs to not have their head in the toilet all day.’ And I’m bored as shit over there. Figured I’d hit the gym, but I stopped here to defrost some steaks.”
“Because no one in your house is eating and you hate cooking just for yourself?”
“You know me well.”
Detroit used to cook for the club multiple times a day. But becoming a husband and father had stolen a lot of his time.
In his absence, the diner in town had been getting a lot of business from us. And the prepared food section at the supermarket.
We’d each tried our hand at cooking. But, well, I’d spent most of my adulthood eating prepared meals or MREs in the military.
Raff spent most of his time on the road, eating fast food or gas station hot dogs.
Syn had been living in a damn storage locker for years with no way to cook.
And Saint, well, Saint had been in prison.
Though out of all of us, he was the only one who could cook a half-edible meal. I figured that might have to do with having to raise his much younger brother. He made a mean breakfast omelet and had a hand with the grill, but without anyone to make sides, those nights were just… meat.
“When’s the last time you guys had something halfway healthy to eat?” Detroit asked. He dug around through the dozen or so clamshell containers in the fridge in search of vegetables to make as a side.
“When’s the last time you cooked for us?” I shot back.
That got a huff of a laugh out of him.
“Well, I guess I’m hitting up the food store after the gym.”
“Ah, morning,” a woman’s voice said, making both of us turn to find her standing just inside the kitchen.
I remembered her from the night before. Pretty, blonde, petite. She’d been hanging on Syn’s every word. Her hair was dry and tangled in the harsh morning, and her red, hungover eyes had raccoon liner smudged beneath. She’d stolen one of Syn’s tees that she had knotted over her party dress. Her heels must have been stashed in her purse because she was wearing one of the sets of slides the club kept stocked for, well, exactly this purpose. Who wanted to do the walk of shame in icepick heels?
“Morning,” I said over the rim of my coffee cup. “Want some coffee?”
“Actually, ah, I’m… missing…”
She sighed, closing her eyes.
“Pink, purple, black, or beige?” Detroit asked, walking over to the freezer.
“Purple,” she admitted, shaking her head at herself. “Thanks,” she said, taking the bra from Detroit, folding it in half, and shoving it into her bag. “Why did we put them in there again?”
Detroit looked at me.
“That part is a little blurry for me too. It was after the strip poker but before the topless karaoke…”
The woman let out a laugh/groan hybrid.
“So… my phone.”
“I lined them up by the door,” I told her.
I’d crashed earlier than the others. I didn’t know if I was getting old or boring (or both) but the liquor had hit me hard, making me too tired to even think about taking a woman up to bed. So I’d gotten extra sleep and woke up to straighten the disaster of the living space before Slash happened by and saw it.
“You need a ride into town? I’m heading to the gym.”
The woman looked relieved.
“That would be great. I came with Madison, but, I, uh, guess she isn’t up yet. I have to get to work.”
“No problem,” Detroit said as I turned to pour some coffee into a to-go cup for her, adding some cream and sugar because who didn’t like coffee with something a little extra in it after a night of drinking, and held it out to her.
“Probably gonna need this,” I said as she reached for it.
“Thank you. This was… a lot different than I expected.”
The town had a little bit of a boom, population-wise. A lot of new women around who hadn’t visited the club before.
This woman worked as a nurse at the prison. Which I knew because when Saint reached for something and his shirt lifted up, she’d squealed and declared that she’d been the one to treat the wound that caused the scar on his back.
“Come back anytime. We’re always up for fun,” I said, toasting her with my coffee cup.