Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“Haven’t had that much fun in a while,” Dixon admitted, shooting me a smirk.
“What time are you heading out?” Velle asked. “You have time to party? We could have some girls over.”
“Far be it from me to turn down your club girls, but my motel room is a mess. I gotta get it cleaned up before I head out in the morning. Should probably head out.”
“When you planning to head down here again?” York asked.
“You know me. I never stay planted anywhere too long. Probably just a couple of weeks. Maybe two months, max, depending on what my club has going on. I’ll text you when I’m heading back this way,” I said, tossing the peas at Velle. “Been nice fighting alongside you.”
With that, I turned and made my way out back, climbing in my ancient little car that had been a home away from home of sorts for a long time.
I’d never admit it aloud to any of the guys, but recently, I’d been feeling something akin to frustration when I climbed into the car.
Maybe it was because most of my trips were solo ones now. No brother in the front seat with me. No friends to talk to or hang out with. Just me, the car, and empty hotel or motel rooms. And this growing feeling like I was missing out on something.
By the time I made it back to my clubhouse, I’d typically been gone for weeks. It seemed like new relationships had formed, babies had grown, the town had shifted. And I’d missed it all.
Maybe getting stabbed in the leg and grounding me for a lot longer than I planned had softened me or something.
All I knew was there was this ache in my chest that seemed to grow stronger each day. And because it was there—gnawing, unavoidable—I did what I could to drown it out. Life on the road was full of bars, clubs, women, the occasional bar fight or two, and every single activity I could squeeze into a day to distract me from what I was feeling.
That was why I was in a hurry to get my shit packed up before I crashed, so I could leave as early as possible in the morning. Everything would start feeling better as I made progress toward home.
It was on my second trip out to the dumpster to trash all the take-away containers that had been piling up that I saw something out of the corner of my eye that had my heart stuttering.
Curious, I turned, looking across the street toward another motel on this little strip of highway frequented by truckers.
I’d opted for the motel I was in only because I’d stayed in the other one once, and the water pressure was more of a trickle, and life was too short for that shit.
Both motels were similar: long, low, with cracked pavement in the lot that weeds were bursting through, filthy windows that hardly let any light in, and ancient signs. The one across the street was half-hanging off its post, just waiting to screw someone’s day up when they parked under it when it decided to finally release.
It wasn’t the hotel itself that caught my eye. Or the sign. The trucks parked in the back. The sex worker on her knees beside one of those trucks or the ogre of a man she was servicing.
Nope.
It was the woman in white making a mad dash from the front office.
A very familiar woman.
I knew Lula when I saw her.
I’d been admiring the woman for years.
There was no mistaking her for anyone else. All those perfect, soft curves. That feminine face with high cheekbones, a soft jaw, that stunning, rich sepia skin.
The only thing about her that was different was the way her hair was split down the center and slicked back. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen her with her hair fully up before.
Or wearing something so dressed down. In this case, a matching short and tank set in a crisp winter white.
It was Lula.
But also… it couldn’t be Lula.
Because Lula belonged in Shady Valley. In her fancy-ass condo. With her BMW.
Not at some shady-ass motel in Florida making a quick dash toward a cheap-ass little red sedan.
I was frozen in place, watching her slide into the driver’s seat, slamming the door, locking it, then tossing her luggage into the backseat before turning the vent toward her face and letting it blow on her for a minute before throwing the car into reverse and pulling out of her spot.
I was doubting my eyes, wondering if maybe I was seeing what I wanted to see. But then she pulled out of the lot, driving right past me.
“The fuck?” I mumbled to myself.
Because it was absolutely Lula.
And there was a strange, haunted look in her eye as she drove.