Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 76953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
I yanked open the door to the lobby instead, then rushed toward the door, flinging it open, and exploding out into the fresh air.
And there, running from the parking lot, was Perish.
Almost like I’d freaking conjured him myself.
“Gracie!” he yelled, doubling his efforts.
Neither of us slowed.
I threw myself behind him, hands clutching his shirt.
“Someone was in my office,” I gasped between breaths.
A growl moved through Perish at that.
His hands curled into fists.
“Did he hurt you?”
“No. He grabbed me, but I got away.”
“Fuck, I need to get you out of here.”
He sounded conflicted.
I couldn’t blame him.
My uncles and cousins would feel the same. Split by the need to protect me… and to get the bad guy.
“I can take myself to—”
“No,” he cut me off. “Where’s your car?”
“Right over… shit.”
“What?”
“I don’t have my purse. Or keys.”
“Bike. Now,” he demanded, starting to walk backward, his hand under his shirt, likely holding onto his gun in case he needed to use it. His head was swiveling, glancing around, looking for threats.
I glanced around, spotting the bike and beelining for it.
“Helmet,” he growled, still walking backward toward me.
I didn’t hesitate.
Because now that I felt protected, I could think a little more clearly.
Perish had been running toward me.
There was no way he could have known I was in trouble.
So there was some other kind of trouble.
I thought back to my cell, to the texts I had been ignoring, assuming they were work-related. But maybe it was the club.
Maybe the shit had hit the fan.
So by the time he got to the bike, I had on my helmet and had climbed onto the seat.
Perish paused only to holster his gun before jumping on and turning it over.
“Hold on,” he demanded in that deep growl of his.
Then we were off.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Gracie
The gates to the clubhouse were closed, but as the bike rolled closer, Spike and Cain pulled them open to let us in.
With one look at the driveway, I knew my suspicions about something being very wrong were confirmed.
It looked like every biker was at the club.
At least five of my uncles were walking the grounds, not even bothering to conceal their guns.
“What’s going on?” I asked as soon as Perish parked and cut the engine.
“The shootout wasn’t about the Grassis,” Perish said, climbing off and waiting for me to do the same, then walking behind me, blocking me from the street view.
“It was about the club?”
“It was about me,” Perish said as my father burst out of the front door.
“Sweetie, what are you doing here?” he asked, trying to mask the anxiety in his voice. “Everyone is supposed to be at Hailstorm.”
“I… um…”
“I went to get her,” Perish said, his hand going to my hip to push me forward until I squeezed past my father and stepped inside the clubhouse. “She was attacked,” he added.
“I’m fine,” I assured my father quickly. “I forgot to check the fire escape,” I said, sighing.
“It’s not your fault,” Perish said, beating my father to it.
“Perish,” Fallon said, beelining for the man who was still standing behind me, a little too closely to be casual. Like he expected a madman to come charging through the door at any moment and needed to put himself between me and that imagined person. “You need to start talking.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “But I want someone to check over Gracie first.”
“Check over me? I’m fine.”
“She was attacked,” he reiterated, tone grave.
“It was nothing.”
“An attack is, by fucking definition, something,” he shot back.
“Really,” I said, looking at Fallon who, out of the three men, would likely be the most logical. “It was no big deal. He just grabbed me from behind,” I said, touching my midsection. Did it feel a little achy? Sure. But it was no big deal. “Slapped a hand over my mouth. I got out of the hold and ran. That’s it.”
“Does it hurt?” Fallon asked, nodding toward my midsection.
“It’s a little achy. That’s it.”
“Coulda bruised a rib,” Perish suggested.
“No, he couldn’t have. Is it just me, or did you all turn into Neanderthals suddenly? I’m fine. It was no big deal. I’ve been hurt worse sparring with you,” I told Fallon.
“Should check,” Perish insisted. “Any of the girls here?”
“No. I sent them up to Hailstorm since I didn’t know what was going on. Still don’t,” he added a little pointedly. “But, yeah, she should be checked out.”
“I can check,” my father suggested.
“No,” I squeaked. My dad and I had a healthy relationship. But I was in a romper. Checking my midsection would require getting down to my underwear. That was awkward.
“I can,” Fallon also suggested.
“No.”
“I’ve seen you in a bathing suit.”
He’d seen me in little board shorts and a one-piece top. I’d always felt a little weird about being mostly naked around my extended family.
“Hardly.”
“What if I got you a change of clothes and you could just pull up the tee a little?” Perish asked.