Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 47615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
“Rat Man --” I began.
“Is at the docks, according to Knight’s intel.” She placed a hand on my arm. “I’ll be practically inside the compound the whole time. You can literally see the front door to the clubhouse from here.” She nodded toward the window, where indeed, the edge of the main building was visible beyond the fence line.
I wavered, torn between my need to keep her in my sight and my respect for her independence. Ada wasn’t some fragile thing to be locked away. She was strong, capable, and smart -- qualities that had drawn me to her in the first place. Smothering her with overprotection would only push her away, and I couldn’t have distance between us.
“Text me when you get there,” I said finally, the concession feeling like gravel in my throat. “And again when you’re heading back. If I don’t hear from you in fifteen minutes, I’m coming after you.”
She rolled her eyes but nodded. “Deal.” She stretched up on tiptoes to press a quick kiss to my mouth. “Don’t worry so much. I’ll be right back.”
“I always worry,” I muttered, but she was already halfway to the door, her steps light despite everything. I watched her go, my stomach knotting with an unease I couldn’t shake. Being considerate of her feelings and not bossing her around was proving to be harder than I thought. I just wanted her safe, but I also didn’t want her to be smothered.
Hannah appeared at my side, her quiet presence oddly comforting. “She’ll be fine,” she said, following my gaze. “Ada’s tougher than she looks.”
“I know,” I replied, though it did little to ease the dread pooling in my gut. “Still hard to let her out of my sight.”
Hannah gave me a gentle smile, patting my shoulder as she continued with the last of her work.
I forced myself to turn back to my own task and load the remaining boxes into the truck. But my gaze kept drifting to the door, waiting for Ada’s return even though she’d just left. My phone chimed and I checked the screen. As she’d promised, a text confirming Ada had reached the clubhouse. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
Still, I couldn’t shake the sensation crawling up my spine, warning me something wasn’t quite right. I’d felt the same sensation before. Usually in the yard before a fight broke out.
“You okay, brother?” Tiny asked, noticing my distraction as I handed him another crate.
I nodded, not trusting my voice. The rational part of me knew Ada was fine. The clubhouse was secure, filled with loyal club members. She was probably chatting with someone while packing up those cookies. Just like she’d lost track of the cookies in the first place.
But the part of me that had survived Terre Haute screamed danger with every heartbeat. Every second that passed without Ada returning ratcheted the tension higher. And why hadn’t she texted to say she’d left the compound?
I checked my phone again. Eight minutes since her text saying she’d arrived. I’d give her another seven before I went looking. Not because I didn’t trust her capability, but because I didn’t trust the world not to hurt the one good thing that had happened to me in my life after everything I’d gone through. And I’d be damned if I let anything take her from me now.
Twenty minutes later and I was a fucking mess. She’d been gone twenty minutes and still no text saying she was heading back.
“She text you yet?” Hannah asked, her voice quiet as she appeared at my side with another box.
I shook my head, eyes still fixed on the door. “Should have been back by now.”
“Maybe she ran into Knight,” Hannah offered, though the concern in her eyes betrayed her own unease. “You know how he gets when he’s in protective brother mode.”
I nodded, wanting to believe it, but the tension in my shoulders only coiled tighter. I dialed Ada’s number, listening to it ring once, twice, three times before going to voicemail. Her voice, cheerful and light, asking me to leave a message. I ended the call without speaking.
Twenty-five minutes.
“Try her again,” Hannah urged, abandoning any pretense of continuing to work.
I did. Straight to voicemail this time. Not even a ring.
Tiny materialized beside us, his massive frame blocking out the overhead lights. “Problem?” he asked, picking up on the tension immediately.
“Ada went to the clubhouse for cookies,” Hannah explained. “She hasn’t come back, and she’s not answering her phone.”
“I’ve been trying to talk myself out of going after her,” I muttered. “The last thing I want to do is smother her.”
Tiny’s expression darkened. “How long?”
“Twenty-seven minutes,” I replied, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. “Something’s wrong.”
I didn’t wait for a response. Couldn’t wait any longer. I moved toward the exit, my strides long and purposeful. I’d wasted enough time trying to be reasonable. The only thing that mattered now was finding Ada. If she got mad, I’d apologize. But I’d absolutely do it again if in the same situation.