Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Did my belly go all liquid?
Yes.
I mean, if your belly didn’t go all liquid when a guy like this touched you, I was pretty sure you were crazy.
“Handle,” I repeated, my brain suddenly turned to mush.
“Report it stolen,” he said. “They can brick it.”
“Brick it,” I repeated, sure my brain wasn’t to blame for that one. It just didn’t make any sense.
“Make it so no one can use or access it. Turn it into a brick,” he clarified.
“Oh, right,” I said, nodding. That made sense. And would protect any of my personal information.
“Do you have a lock on your phone?”
“Yes.”
“Good. So it is likely fine for the moment. But most locks can be overridden if someone is determined enough.”
“But what… what if the police ask why I reported it stolen before the break-in?”
“Just… don’t tell them,” he said. And it was in such an easy, off-hand way that I was suddenly starting to wonder if he was one of those bikers I’d read about when I’d researched bikers.
The one-percenters.
Basically, that ninety-nine percent of bikers and biker clubs were just for fun, for family, for shared interests.
But one percent of the biker clubs actually operated on the other side of the law. Selling drugs, working in enforcement, protection, weapons, women. You name it.
The ease with which Alaric had responded to the sound of gunshots, how swift he was to track me down, and how he had been so willing to potentially walk into a dangerous situation that involved three attempted murderers, yeah, it all sort of pointed toward him not being a guy who rode a bike just for fun.
I should have been freaking out about that.
But I somehow just felt even safer with him.
“How can I not tell them?” I asked.
“There’s no reason for them to specifically ask. And if you don’t volunteer…”
“Oh,” I said, nodding. That… made sense. I could still have my same phone number if I got a new phone. So… yeah. Okay. That was doable. “Right,” I said. “I can do that.”
Alaric turned, grabbed the lap top out of the bag, and handed it to me.
Taking it, I sat, opening and waiting for it to power up.
“What was Frida barking at when I was coming up? Me?”
“A lizard,” I told him. “She’s terrified of lizards.”
To that, Alaric shot me an amused look.
“Aren’t these… hunting dogs?” he asked with a small smile.
“Well, in her defense… they’re bird dogs. And she has a personal vendetta against every single seagull she has ever met since one stole her pup cup when she was little. But lizards, lizards are scary.”
“You might need to keep a tight hold on her leash when you take her out back. I’ve been whacking away at all the overgrowth, but there are still a lot of critters calling it home.”
“Noted,” I agreed, then got the wifi information from him, and worked on the phone thing for a few minutes, finding myself thankful that I didn’t actually have to make a phone call. Least of all in front of Alaric, who would probably lose all sexual interest in me when he saw me having to scribble down a script to read off of when I called.
When I closed the lid of my laptop, phone newly bricked, and the understanding that I could pick another one up at any store at any time, I found Alaric kneeling down, rubbing a shameless Frida who had rolled over and given him her belly. Something she only ever did for me.
So, okay.
Maybe he was a one-percent biker.
But Frida thought he was a good guy.
I was inclined to agree.
“Okay. So, let’s get you settled in,” Alaric declared. “I’m assuming you already took a look around,” he said, sounding completely unbothered by that. While I was suddenly struck with the knowledge that he’d done the exact same. Worse, even. Since he’d needed to collect some of my things to bring them with him.
He’d seen my recording room.
My props for my pictures and videos.
My underwear drawer. And it wasn’t even an exciting underwear drawer. Sensible cotton panties in some fun shades, sure, but not exactly lingerie. The same went for my bras. T-shirt bras. No satin or lace.
“I found the bathroom,” I admitted. “If you could just scrounge up a pillow for me, I can set up the couch,” I said, waving toward it.
“Absolutely fucking not,” he said, looking at me like I’d lost my mind. Then, striding forward, he grabbed my bags, and moved toward the hall. “Come on. You’re taking the bedroom.”
“No, really, I don’t want to put you out,” I said, rushing to follow behind, finding his long-legged pace a lot faster than I realized.
“You’re not,” he said, placing the bags on the bed. “Once you settle in, I will change the sheets for you,” he said. “Frida is more than welcome to share the bed too,” he said.