Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
“Yes, play message,” he replied.
“Playing one new message from Stillman. Yo, Lee, long time. I’ll be out at The Barn for another twenty minutes. Get there before I leave if you want to chat.”
Shit.
He immediately pulled over to the side of the road so he could safely answer the message.
“What’s wrong?” Beth asked as he slowed the bike.
“Have to answer a text.”
“Oh, okay.”
He stared down at his phone. Twenty minutes was not enough time to drop Beth off at home and get out to The Barn, as they used to call their old hangout. Back in his late teen years and early twenties, Saint spent many nights out at the abandoned barn getting high with that crowd. Looked like not much had changed for Stillman. Even if he headed straight there, he’d be cutting it close.
“Fuck,” he muttered as he tried to puzzle through a plan.
“What’s wrong?”
He glanced over his shoulder to find her watching him with concerned eyes. “Nothing. I have to meet someone to get some information about these bikers, and I don’t have enough time to drop you off before he leaves where he’s at.”
“Oh.” She shrugged. “Easy, just bring me. I don’t have anything going on.”
“Hell no.” Over his dead body would he bring her around that crowd. They were unpredictable at best and extremely violent at worst. “It’s not safe.”
Her arms came around his waist in a hug as she settled her chin on his shoulder. “You’re being stubborn.”
“Trust me, this is not a place you want to be. Copper would peel my balls if I took you along. It’s not even a place I want to be.”
“Sure, but it doesn’t sound like you have any other options.”
“I’ll figure something out.” He stared down at his phone, but nothing came to him. He could call Gator to pick up Beth, but it’d take too long, same with returning her to the clubhouse.
“You’re wasting time,” she sing-songed with a smug hint in her voice. “Don’t think Copper will be too happy if you let this opportunity pass by.”
“Fuck.” Saint grunted. “You’re a little shit, you know that?” He was truly wedged between a rock and an incredibly hard place.
Beth squealed and wiggled behind him. She knew she had him backed into a corner. This was an opportunity he couldn’t pass up. When he’d texted Stillman earlier, he’d never expected to receive a response. At least not for a few days. He tended to go off the grid and spend days at a time in a drug-induced stupor. If he didn’t make it to The Barn in time, who the hell knew when Saint would get another opportunity to pump him for information? And as of now, Saint’s former friend might be their only potential lead.
“Fine,” he said over his shoulder. “You’re coming, but I swear to God, Beth, if you don’t glue yourself to my side while we’re there, I’ll spank your ass, fuck what Copper thinks.”
She stilled behind him, and he groaned. God, how stupid could he be? Her boyfriend had just hit her, and he’d threatened to put his hands on her. Not that he ever would. It was just talk, but still.
Fucking idiot.
“Sorry,” he said quickly. “I’d never lay a hand on you in anger, Beth. I hope you know that.”
She cleared her throat. “Um… yeah… of course I know that. You were mouthing off. No big deal.” Her voice dropped an octave, sounding huskier than usual.
It almost sounded turned on. But there was no way, right? She’d just gotten out of an abusive relationship. The last thing she needed was another man’s hands on her, even if those hands would worship rather than wound. Christ, that would be a complication neither of them needed. Hiding his attraction to her was one thing, but knowing she wanted him as well would make it nearly impossible to stay away.
Her weight disappeared from his back as she straightened, but kept her hands resting on his hips enough to stay safe behind him.
He hit the throttle and sped off, faster than the law would like, but time was not on his side. Mountain views zoomed by, something he’d usually appreciate, but today he had a single-minded focus—get to The Barn before Stillman left, and his chance to help his club went up in smoke.
They rolled to a stop in front of the dilapidated barn with five minutes to spare.
Behind him, Beth tensed, which he took as a good sign. She should be tense. This place was a shithole, crawling with people who’d slit her throat to get at five dollars in her wallet.
The place hadn’t changed much in the decade since he’d hung out here. It was as advertised, a faded red barn with a crumbling ceiling and rotting wood planks. Old tires, broken-down cars, and piles of garbage littered what was once a grassy area surrounding the barn. The inside, if he remembered correctly, was always a hazy, smoke-filled cesspool where addicts and dealers passed out on random couches and futons, salvaged from the side of the road God knew how many years ago.