Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 169013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 845(@200wpm)___ 676(@250wpm)___ 563(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 845(@200wpm)___ 676(@250wpm)___ 563(@300wpm)
“He’s gone.”
“He wants to take him back?” She gulped around the fear. Like it was hers as much as it was mine.
Disquiet rolled with the hate. “He just wants money.”
Her brow pinched. “Did you give it to him?”
I stared up at her from where I was knelt on a single knee, still clinging to the side of her calf. “He’s never taking anything from me again.”
Understanding passed between us. Fierce and vehement.
Mutual respect and something deeper.
I could barely move as I forced myself to stand and go to the cabinet where I pulled out the first aid kit and a fresh washcloth, my guts a tangle as I warmed it under water then knelt back in front of her.
Tenderly lifting her foot so I could clean it.
Those eyes were on me the whole time.
Sifting and penetrating and cutting me through.
Her skin so fucking soft and her spirit so fucking right.
Bright and blinding and a little dark. I wanted to explore every facet. See what made her glow and discover what had caused the hardened places.
I dabbed ointment on the cut then fully wrapped her foot so it would be secure.
I looked up at her.
Found the awed, confused expression on her gorgeous face.
And there was nothing I could do but turn my head and press my lips just to the inside of her knee and whisper, “Thank you.”
The roar of motorcycles filled the heavy summer night. Humidity clinging to the air and sweat drenching my skin.
Me at the helm as we rode into town, my crew in formation behind me.
Trevan and Phoenix were a fraction back and side by side. The others gathered at the rear.
The showing heavy and malicious.
People parted, eyes swinging our way as we passed through Crimson Creek. The diner and bakery and the eclectic shops, though most of them were closed for the night.
I’d left twenty men to guard the compound, but it wasn’t enough to quell the anxiety that prickled through my senses.
The feeling that something was off.
Not quite right.
We made the left at Cutter Lane and wound down to the area by the river and pulled into the dirt lot in front of Keg & Creek, a wood-paneled building that looked like it hailed from the 1890s.
I gritted my teeth at the sight. Memories assailing.
I forced it all down, knowing vengeance was soon at hand, and we rolled inside like we owned it. Wearing our cuts, voices boisterous and loud, drinks flowing, my men carousing.
But the whole time I itched.
Unsettled.
Antsy.
And that feeling never settled until I stood in my room five hours later, staring down at her sleeping in the middle of my bed.
Wild brunette curls strewn around her.
No peace until I peeled off my tee and jeans and crawled into my bed next to her, wrapped her in my arms, and pulled her back to my chest.
TWENTY-SIX
BRINLEY
Four days had passed since I started staying in Silas’s house. Four days of sleeping with him wrapped around me like that was where he was meant to be.
He said it was so he could protect me. Be right there to stand in front of any threat that might make itself known, but I was pretty sure there wasn’t a soul who could make it onto the property who wasn’t supposed to be there and come out with their lives intact.
I was highly doubting that I was in any actual danger within the compound walls.
The only real threat was the man who still wouldn’t budge or give me answers, but who was steadily chipping away at every reserve.
The brittle bricks guarding my spirit and body crumbling a little more with each harsh, vicious look.
I didn’t know if it was those or the gentle ones that were getting to me more.
The man both predatory and tender.
I had no idea what to make of him.
The contrast and complexity.
The intimidation and the care.
The way he’d tended to my foot then stood up and walked out like he couldn’t stand to be in the same room as me for a second longer.
The brash, greedy way in which he talked to me and the softness of his breath that he’d exhale into my nape when he was holding me.
He didn’t push it beyond that.
He’d crawl into bed long after I’d fallen asleep, the man a vat of whiskey and cherries that I’d float in for the night, and he’d be gone when I woke each morning.
Without fail, I’d be sticky and sweaty and pulsing with need.
My dreams had become both vivid and surreal.
In them, I allowed him to touch me.
To take me.
To own me the way he’d admitted that he wanted to.
I didn’t know how it’d happened, but I’d allowed myself to fall into the strange, terrifying comfort of this place.
Every free minute was spent hanging out in the kitchen with Elena, Kai, and Meems. Falling for them more with each beat.