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)
“What’s your plan for the day?”
She shot her dad a suspicious glance as she set the knife down. “Why? Are you planning on having someone follow me everywhere I go?”
He shrugged. “Haven’t decided yet.”
“Well, let me make the decision for you. That’s a big, fat no way.”
“Beth…” She shook her head at her father.
Saint frowned. “Beth…”
“Nope.” She pointed back and forth between the two of them. “You are not ganging up on me about this. Not happening. I have a job interview with a grooming salon in town, and I will not have one of you guys sitting outside the shop, intimidating the hell out of some poor salon owner.”
“Beth, they’ll be discreet,” Copper said. “This isn’t our first rodeo.”
“No.”
“You’re not interviewing at The Barking Beautician, are you?” Gator asked without any comment about her safety. Beside her, Saint practically vibrated with what she assumed was the need to shove her in a locked box and throw away the key.
She cringed. “Yes. That name is awful, but they’re the only game in town. They’re new, and they’re hiring.”
“Huh. Heard they kinda suck.”
“Jesus, Gator,” Saint muttered. “Way to be supportive.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ve heard the same thing, but I need a job.”
“No, you don’t.” Copper stroked his beard. “We said you could stay at home for as long as you like. There’s no rush.”
Well, I’m sleeping with one of your enforcers, and I sure can’t do that at your house, so there kinda is a rush.
“Dad, I’m used to my own place. I miss the independence,” she said instead. “I miss working too. You know I enjoyed my job.”
“I know. I just like having you at home,” he muttered, face reddening.
She grinned. “Me too.” Nothing but a big old sap, her dad was.
“Wow, this is really touching.” Gator sighed and rested his chin on his hand as he fluttered his lashes.
Copper smacked him on the back of the head.
“Ow! What the hell? It was a compliment.”
“Look, Beth, after yesterday, I’m concerned,” Copper said without acknowledging Gator further. “These motherfuckers have already messed with you once. Until we know more, I’m not taking any chances.”
She sighed and looked at Saint, who stared at her with hot eyes. Hot eyes that dared her to deny protection again. “Fine.” Saint seemed to relax visibly. She wanted to reach over and squeeze his hand, but curled her fingers into her palm instead. “But they stay out of my way.”
Copper nodded. “Promise.”
Sure, he did. It was an easy promise to make but a much harder one to keep.
Her mom blew into the clubhouse wearing an apron and barking orders like a breakfast drill sergeant. Everyone, all these big, potentially violent bikers jumped into action following her every command without question. The way they all loved and respected her mother made Beth’s heart happy, but she couldn’t help but laugh. Tiny Shell wielded a ton of influence around here.
Within five minutes, they’d set the table, delivered the food from the kitchen, and had everyone seated at various tables. Kids ran around causing the usual ruckus, teenagers sat together, staring at their phones with sullen expressions, and loud laughter rang out through the building.
Beth ended up sitting with her parents, Zach, Toni, Lindsey, Maverick, and Stephanie. A few regulars were notably absent, Screw being the one whose presence she missed the most. He never failed to have her cracking up with wild stories from his misspent youth. The only cloud on an otherwise sunny experience was Saint ending up on the opposite side of the room.
It had to be that way, of course. She couldn’t exactly demand he sit at her table without garnering a few unanswerable questions.
Well, she could answer them, but she wasn’t in the mood for a fireworks show right then. So she spent the meal chatting with her loved ones, embracing the mushy feelings of being home with family, enjoying delicious food, and trying not to glance over at Saint every two seconds.
One of those things didn’t happen as planned.
Once the group had consumed every ounce of food—these guys had some serious appetites—Beth stood to help start the cleanup. Before she had a chance to grab a platter, the door flew open, and Screw blew in like a hurricane.
“Beth!” he screamed, whipping his head around as he searched for her. His hair, longer than she’d ever seen it, was pulled back in a man bun, but whisps flew around his face as though he’d been messing with it. His eyes had a wild, panicked gleam. “Where the fuck is Beth?”
She stepped forward. “I’m right here. What’s wrong?”
“Oh my God, there you are.”
Screw darted toward her.
Saint shot up, gaze sharp, and muscles primed to dive between them if he found Screw a threat, which was absurd. She gave him a firm headshake.
When he reached her, Screw grabbed her shoulders—Saint must have loved that—and sighed as though a hundred-pound anvil sat on his chest. “You won’t believe what they did to her. It’s so bad. Beth, it’s horrible.”