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)
Not sure what else to do, mentally, I started counting with him.
When I reached five minutes, I watched as York’s arms suddenly relaxed, and the man’s body slumped, lifeless, to the floor.
York himself was panting, sweating, shaking with the effort of, I assumed, killing the man.
He reached down, pressing his hand to the man’s neck, waiting. Then he did the same under his nose. Then back to his neck.
To, I guess, confirm the kill.
Only when he was satisfied did he lower the man fully down and look over at me.
“Fuck,” he whispered to himself.
I guess I looked as terrible as I felt.
Everything seemed to be stabbing and throbbing with pain.
“Okay. Listen to me,” he said, moving over toward me. “I need you to stay in this bathroom for a minute. Quietly. Okay?”
I nodded.
What other choice did I have?
“Why?”
“I have someone over,” he explained, glancing back toward the hallway. “And she can’t know what just happened here.”
Because he’d killed a man.
In self-defense, sure, but still.
I nodded again.
“I am going to get her out of here. And then I’m going to come back for you, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Don’t look at him,” he demanded when my gaze moved hopelessly in that direction. “And don’t you fucking dare feel sorry for him. If you were looking at what I’m looking at, you’d know he had it coming.”
I glanced back at York.
“Where’s Raff?”
“I’m calling him. He will meet us at the clinic.”
The clinic?
But even as I thought it, every ache seemed to intensify.
Yeah, the clinic seemed like a smart idea.
“Can you scoot back for me?” he asked as he reached for the door.
He wanted to close it. To prevent me from looking at the body more.
Silently, I shifted across the floor.
“Five minutes, okay?”
He waited for me to nod, then moved out of the bathroom and closed the door.
I listened to his footsteps, then the soft click of the bedroom door.
The house was eerily quiet. Enough that I could hear York’s timbre and the soft voice of a woman as they moved through the house a moment later.
Alone, I tried to focus on my breath instead of all the aches and pains.
It wasn’t long, though, before all thoughts shifted to Raff.
Who I’d screamed for.
Who hadn’t come running.
Because he wasn’t at the house.
York said he had to call him.
So where was he?
Had he gone home with one of those women?
I wasn’t prepared for the way my stomach twisted. My hand flew there as I curled against the sudden pain, a whimper escaping me.
Why did it matter? I’d seen Raff with dozens of women over the years at The Boy. I knew he went back to the clubhouse with them, went to bed with them. So what? Why would it feel different now?
Only, I knew why.
And it wasn’t even the kiss.
It was everything I’d been feeling since I first found him in my motel room back in Shady Valley. Since I cried into his chest and felt the first relief I had in weeks. It was the conspiratorial smiles as we had little road trip adventures; it was how he remembered even the smallest details about me; it was the way I couldn’t seem to focus on anything at all without him forcing his way into my mind.
I liked him.
For better or worse.
And now he could be out there… making someone else smile, laugh, feel special.
My stomach twisted again, but I tried to ignore it as I listened to York’s voice downstairs.
Then, what felt like a lifetime later, several other male voices.
Velle and Dixon, maybe? Back from their adventures.
I had no idea.
All I knew was that there were several sets of footsteps making their way up the stairs, down the hall, and into the bedroom.
“It’s York,” York called before slowly opening the door and flicking on the light.
He winced as he looked at me.
If this big, scary biker guy thought I looked bad enough to wince, I didn’t even want to see myself.
“Okay. You, me, Velle, and our friend Teddy are going to bring you to the clinic, okay?”
I nodded but didn’t move from my position on the ground.
Someone nudged York out of the way, and then there was Velle, looking like he’d been woken up and was still adjusting to that inconvenience. But he had a pair of my flip-flops in his hands and my beach cover-up thrown over his shoulder.
“Heya, honey.” His voice was soft, soothing. And he worked hard not to have a reaction to whatever horror show he was looking at when he glanced at my face. “Let’s go get you some medical care, huh? Can I put these on you?” he asked, flashing the shoes.
I nodded and held out one foot, then the other.
“Do you want me to help you to your feet, or do you want to do it yourself?”
I shook my head, stubborn to my core, and whimpered and grunted my way to my own feet.