Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
I pause. “What?” The only reason I didn’t pack a bigger shit about coming was because I kinda liked the idea of chilling in Yana’s girl pad in the city. Now I’m stuck here, in farmland filled with bikers, one I don’t like. “Fuck!”
Yana hooks her arm with mine. “Come on, Killer. The walk isn’t that long and by the time we get there, we’ll be ready for a glass or three with our new friend.”
Jada’s house is a small white two-story home with a porch. A swing is near the front door, and every light is on in the house, making it a beacon for us to find in a paddock with a man-made road.
“I don’t think she likes me,” I say slowly, my footsteps toward the cute home.
Yana rushes me forward. “You’re over thinking it.” We climb the steps, and Jada swings the door open as soon as we hit the last one.
“Welcome!” Her arms stretch as wide as her smile, before she steps aside and gestures into a wave of heat. “Come in.”
I stop just as I pass, turning to her. “Thank you for letting me stay.” I really wish she was an asshole. But she isn’t.
Jada pats me on the shoulder. “It’s okay, Melissa. We’re all friends here.” She shuts the door and hitches her thumb over her shoulder. “I’ve gotta go check on the kid upstairs, but kitchen is that way and make yourself at home.” She disappears, and I shuffle off my Chucks and drop my duffle bag near the front door.
“What are you thinking about?” Yana asks as we make our way through the small archway to the kitchen. It’s warm, lived-in. Photos hang on the wall of a small boy, I’m guessing Garett, and most of them include Hella.
“I'm thinking about the night I slept with Hella,” I answer, studying a picture of him and Garett as a baby. Hella’s smile, flashing his set of white teeth. “I'm thinking I should have ridden his dick with a machete pressed against his throat.”
“Jesus, Melissa,” Yana hisses, breaking my spell.
“Now I'm turned on,” I reply flatly, following her into the kitchen and taking a seat on one of the four chairs tucked beneath a round table.
Jada strides in carrying wine bottles. Her hair is pulled up in a messy knot, makeup off, yoga pants and an oversized tee. “What turns you on?”
I choke on a laugh. “Nothing!”
“So, where's Garret?” Yana asks, shifting in her chair. I mentally roll my eyes. “I have to tell him what I saw in Westbeach.”
“He's just washing up. He'll be down soon, especially with all this food.” She gestures to the table, which is filled almost every space. “But I'll be kicking his butt upstairs after that. School tomorrow.”
“I have to ask,” Yana begins, pouring a glass of wine after Jada places the bottles on the table. “Why expensive wine?” We all burst out laughing.
Later that night, Jada shows me to the spare room on the opposite side of the hall, and I wash up quickly before slipping into more comfortable clothes. I need to try to get hold of Millie again, so I shove my phone into the charger and leave it on the bedside table.
The room is empty except for a double bed and two drawers. A single window overlooks the backyard, which is pretty much just a stretch of grass, and the house in general always smells like a movie theatre. Every assumption I ever had about Jada exploded the second she welcomed us into her home.
“Hey!” Yana steps through the door, closing it quietly. “I know I said I was going to stay, but Beast is on his way over and wants to talk with me. I may not make it back tonight so I just wanted to check in with you before I left.”
She sniffs, and my argument dissolves.
“Have you been crying?” I ask, drawing closer.
She smiles, but it’s weak. “Kind of. It’s not what you think though,” she quickly says, but it’s too late. I’m glaring at her, arms crossed, and thinking of how many bullets I’d have to unload into one-hundred-and fifty kilos of pure muscle.
“Oh?” I ask, foot tapping. “And what is that, exactly.”
She shakes her head. “You think it’s Beast, but it’s not. To be honest, I don’t know why he tolerates me.”
My shoulders sag because I can see it’s not a lie. Wrapping my arms around hers, I hold her in place. “Then what is it? Are you okay?”
Her brown eyes rest on mine. “I don’t know, Mel. I promised my dad that I’d hang around and keep up face for him. That I’d pop out a couple Woodsmen babies and raise them in the same life, but this?” her arms fly around the room. I don’t know what she’s implying since everything I’ve seen in this home is nothing short of everything I’d ever want growing up.