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)
With that, she finally relaxed enough to take a seat.
Rook opened a notebook.
Then she started talking.
I stood back, a little bit in awe, at how easily she recalled details about the club.
She drew a map of the clubhouse.
She could practically place every single tree and bush on the property.
What she was lacking was information on how many men there were, how many women might be around, and how heavily armed they might be.
“That was kind of the mission the night you guys showed up,” she concluded, sitting back.
“Whoops,” Raff, still on his couch, said.
“Well, we still need that intel,” Slash said. “And it would be helpful if we had someone who could get a few of us in and out of the area without being seen,” he added with a pointed look toward Dylan.
“I already said I wanted help with this, not that I wanted you to take over. I expected to be a guide.”
“Good. I’ll figure out who I’m sending and—”
“I’ll go,” I volunteered quickly. Way, way too quickly. “Wanna be part of making them pay for trying to kill me,” I added, hoping everyone accepted that as the explanation and didn’t dig any deeper. Because the fact of the matter was, I didn’t give a fuck about someone trying to kill me. People had been trying to kill me since I was eighteen years old. You get a little numb to that after a while.
Obviously, the real reason I wanted to go was because of Dylan. I could try to say it was to make sure she was safe. But that would be a lie. I was intrigued by her. I wanted to know more about her. I wanted more than that, if I were being completely honest.
It was just then that the door opened and in walked Detroit and Everleigh with that silly little smush-faced pile of fur Pekingese dog of theirs.
“Oh, hey!” Everleigh, ever a ray of sunshine, beamed at Dylan. “Oh, sweet baby!” she added, spotting Sugar.
“Ev, this is Dylan and Sugar. Dylan, this is Everleigh. And Sugar, that is Betty,” I introduced as Betty came running over toward Sugar, letting out playful little yips.
“She’s great with other dogs if Sugar is,” Everleigh explained. “And she’s used to big dogs. Sway and Murphy have two big German Shepherds.”
“You wanna play?” Dylan asked Sugar, who was doing happy little taps with her front feet. “Okay. Go ahead,” she cooed at the dog as she unclasped her leash.
The two dogs took off like a shot, running around, dropping down on their front legs, asses in the air, then tearing across the common area.
“I brought steak,” Detroit declared.
“I never thought I’d say this, but I’m getting sick of steak,” Raff grumbled.
“Yeah, well, you need the iron, so deal,” Detroit shot back.
“Let me guess. You’re also going to force spinach down my throat too.”
“It’s in the bag.”
“I guess that’s better than that chard,” Raff said.
“You staying for dinner?” Slash asked.
It took Dylan a moment to realize he was speaking to her.
“Oh, uh—”
“I can cook it however you need for it to be healthy for you,” Detroit offered.
“That’s… that’s not really necessary. I just need to know what’s in everything so I can dose my insulin,” Dylan said.
“Wanna watch over my shoulder?” Detroit invited, waving to the kitchen.
“Sure. Fair warning, I’m not a cook.”
“Good thing I just expect you to keep me company then,” Detroit said with a shrug.
Dylan moved to follow him.
And I suddenly decided I really fucking needed to learn how to cook.
CHAPTER TEN
Dylan
“I thought I made it clear that this is completely unnecessary,” I told him as he followed me out the door of the clubhouse many hours later.
It seemed that Everleigh put the word out that there was a new girl at the club. Then a bunch of the old ladies descended on the clubhouse to check me out.
Except they weren’t jealous or possessive like I’d expected. If anything, they were just curious and welcoming. And even thankful.
Apparently, all of the women had a soft spot for Colter. Even Sway’s woman, Murphy, who was a little on the standoffish side. Which, naturally, made me gravitate a little more toward her at first. And she was genuinely interesting, too, being a weapons designer. I didn’t even know that kind of thing existed. But it seemed like her designs were pretty highly sought after. The club made a fortune shipping them down to the sister clubs, who sold them directly or offloaded them to international arms dealers.
It wasn’t long, though, before I was being led outside to see Morgaine’s flock of chickens. All of whom had names and personalities I was told all about. I also learned that Morgaine’s claim to fame was being a poison expert who used to punish bad men with her little concoctions.
Then there was Rook’s woman, Tessa. Who had been a victim of one of the many terrible biker clubs that treated women like holes to be plugged and faces to be smacked around when they were in a bad mood. We’d connected over what it was like to grow up in and around those kinds of toxic clubs.