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)
He thought of everything.
“Thank you,” I said, surprised by how my eyes stung with tears I absolutely could not let flow. I blinked hard a few times. “Did you get everything you needed?”
“Yeah. We lucked out. Got everything set up so it’s ready to go.”
“Good. What time are you thinking of heading out?”
“It’s about half an hour from here, so we figured we’d leave at eight. It should be good and dark by the time we get close.”
“Are we all just observing, or do we have jobs?”
“Saint and Syn are on the cameras. I want you watching the club since you’re good at remembering shit. I’ll be taking pictures as much as possible. You just mentally clock shit.”
“I can do that,” I agreed.
“And obviously, if anything looks different about the clubhouse or grounds, note that too. We will do a purge on the way back to the hotel while everything is fresh. Get it down in a note so we can reference back and clue in Slash.”
“Alright. Sounds good.”
“We figured we would order some food, feed Sugar when she gets up, take her for one more walk, then head out.”
We did just that.
By the time we stuck the privacy hanger on our doors saying not to disturb, Sugar had already tired of her fish tank and gone back to sleep.
With that, we were off.
We took our bikes, wanting the option of taking off in different directions if the shit hit the fan. They also gave the advantage of weaving in and out of traffic or even through backyards if a chase got really bad.
We were all decked out in black when we took off, with me in the lead since I knew where we would be pulling off and parking so we wouldn’t be heard or seen.
Nerves built mile by mile until I was feeling a little shaky and unstable when I climbed off my bike.
“What?” I asked as I pulled off my helmet and shook out my hair, catching Colter staring at me.
“That’s hot as fuck,” he said, climbing off his bike like the comment meant nothing.
Meanwhile, my belly felt all wobbly.
“Don’t the women in your club ride?”
“Not by themselves, no.”
“Why not?”
“I never asked,” he admitted, hanging his helmet from the handlebar as Saint and Syn pulled up and cut their engines.
“Alright, you’re up, babe,” Saint said, double-checking that his phone volume was off before he tucked it away again.
Right.
I was the lead in this.
It should have felt natural.
But there was a sloshing in my stomach as I turned and started walking.
Maybe I didn’t feel it.
But I could fake it.
So I forced my shoulders back, kept my pace purposeful, and tried not to show any of the uncertainty I was feeling.
It was a solid half-hour walk, most of it off the beaten path, since the clubhouse was situated in a densely (for California) wooded area. It existed in a gully between several mountains.
“You sure about this?” Syn asked as the trees just seemed to close in tighter as we went.
I was sure.
I could walk this area in my sleep.
I practically knew all the trees and bushes.
“I’m sure.”
We walked past a large rock that used to serve as my place to sit and cry as a little girl—since doing so at the clubhouse itself would have me relentlessly picked on.
Eventually, I learned to suppress the tears.
But as I looked at the rock, my heart hurt for the younger version of me that learned that the only safe emotion was anger.
It was no wonder I defaulted to being a bitch whenever I was feeling weak or vulnerable.
“Right past those trees,” I whispered when everyone came to a stop at my side, “you’re going to see the clubhouse. It’s painted to kind of blend in. You should be able to get some cameras up while still behind the trees.”
“Front or back?” Saint asked.
“Front. There are thicker trees behind the clubhouse that, if you’re careful, you can walk behind to hang more or get to the other side to put up more. The far side is where the garage and driveway are.”
“Got it,” Saint said, tapping his brother.
The two of them crept forward ahead of us.
Somewhat alone, Colter pressed a hand to my lower back. When I glanced up, it slid to my hip, giving me a squeeze I was pretty sure was meant to be reassuring. Like he knew I was struggling a bit about being back here.
Only, I didn’t think he grasped why.
He likely thought I was upset because of Roach and his men and my girls possibly trapped inside.
And there was that.
Beyond that, though, was something else. Something I couldn’t have anticipated feeling until right that moment. Because everything about my life that wasn’t learning to manage the complications of my body, was laser focused on getting my club back.
Only now, here, just a few yards away, there were some thoughts I hadn’t anticipated, some reservations I never could have seen coming.