Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
I held out my arms. “Darlin’, you’re looking at the new Miss Central Texas.” His eyes widened. “Or not. I imagine my runaway stunt might mean I’ve officially abdicated from that title.”
“You got money?” My face blanched. Tank didn’t even let me reply that I hadn’t. I hadn’t thought of anything but fleeing that stage. A split-second decision. He reached into his leather jacket and handed me a wad of cash.
“I can’t take that!”
“You’re running. So the fuck am I. You’ll need cash. I have it.”
“Why are you running?” I blurted.
His face frosted over. He thrust the cash at me and forced it into my hand. “Take care, beauty queen.” He turned and walked into the office. I followed. When I got inside, he was getting a key. He passed me with a nod and disappeared into one of the rooms outside.
“You want a room, sweetie?”
I looked at the woman behind the desk. “Yeah. Thanks.”
Ten minutes later, I was looking at myself in the bathroom mirror. My hair was in such a state that if my mamma were here she would lose her ever-loving shit. I closed my eyes, feeling her phantom fist slam into my ribs at my lack of perfection.
When I opened my eyes again, I thrust my hands through my hair until every strand stuck up on end . . .
. . . and I laughed.
*****
I couldn’t deny I liked the way the leather pants clung to my legs. Hell, I couldn’t deny that they looked fucking good on me, period. The black tank clung to me like a second skin. Red lips and my hair down and straight finished the look off well. My new heels clicked on the sidewalk as I made my way to the bar at the side of the road. Country music spilled from the wooden walls, and neon signs for different brands of beer took up most of the windows.
I swung the door open and walked inside. It was half full, dark corners hiding most of the occupants. It wasn’t my usual scene, but this mamma needed a damn drink, and here in the middle of nowhere, this was as good as I was gonna get.
I ignored the stares and the few wolf whistles that came my way. Tapping the bar, I said to the bartender, “Wine cooler if you have one, sugar.”
“We got beer and whiskey, blondie.”
I frowned. “Then a whiskey on the rocks.” I hated whiskey. But right now I’d drink gasoline if I thought it would help me get wasted.
I slipped onto the stool as I waited for my drink. When it came I sipped at it, trying not to wince when it hit my tongue. I was one for a sweeter kind of liquor.
I felt someone sit beside me. Then a hand landed on my ass. I slowly placed my drink down then turned to face him. The guy was big and overweight and had a mustache. One sure-as-hell way to make a guy look like a creepy-ass fool—a fucking mustache.
Give me full stubble or a full beard any day. I couldn’t deny how good that shit felt between my thighs.
His skin was covered in sweat. It nearly made me retch.
“You might wanna remove that hand from my ass, darlin’,” I warned.
He smiled, and I wanted to spit in his face. “Kinda like where it’s at.”
I pushed his wrist, and his arm fell away. “Get. The. Fuck. Off.”
I was turning back to my drink when his hand slapped my ass again. Harder this time. The impact made me spill my whiskey. The asshole wanted to hurt me, and I was about to lose my shit.
I swung, ready to rip this prick a new asshole, when an arm rested on the bar between me and him. “Get the fuck off her ass or I’ll break your motherfucking jaw.”
My eyes widened when I saw the familiar shaved head and scar.
“Fuck off, Nazi,” the creep spat and tried to come at me again.
Tank didn’t hesitate. He didn’t speak again, just sent his fist into the creep’s face, and the asshole hit the floor. But my stomach fell when a few other guys got to their feet. The creep clearly had friends. They charged at Tank. He just grinned and let fly with his huge fists. He made it look almost easy. Laughable. Until one of them grabbed a nearby bottle. Before I could do or say a damn thing, he smashed it over Tank’s head. My heart thumped as I saw the blood sprout. My stomach fell and fear spread over my skin. Fear for Tank and what I’d gotten him into.
I shouldn’t have started this shit.
Tank’s punches were relentless. And even with blood trickling into his eyes, Tank fought the guys off until they were on the floor, groaning and covered in blood. When none of them made to get up again, he grabbed my hand and pulled me from the bar. I didn’t look back; I was too busy fighting the funny sensation in my chest at the feel of Tank’s roughened hand in mine. He took me to his bike. “Get on, beauty queen.”