Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 69759 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69759 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
“I’ll find a way to get hold of their drinks, and I’ll put this in them. They’ll wish they didn’t come to that party tonight.”
“Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, it’s pretty harsh.”
She snorts. “Spray painting your shop was pretty damned harsh. Letting that blond bitch call you chunky was harsh.”
She’s right.
“Let’s go.”
I wait near my café as Ramona goes back into the clubhouse. She’s gone for a good hour, and I get comfortable with a bottle of vodka. I’m more than a little drunk by the time she returns, waving the empty packet around in her hand. “God, that was so easy. When Riggs went out to get his little ladies some drinks, I managed to slip some into theirs while he was talking to some other biker. He didn’t even see me. This is going to be epic. Now, we wait.”
She sits beside me and we drink for a few more hours, well into the night and early hours of the morning. This is going to hurt tomorrow, but I don’t open until lunchtime so at least I can sleep in.
“Are those tablets going to work soon?” I say, stuffing my hand into a packet of chips that I made Ramona go and get from my apartment.
“Yep, the box says they work within two hours, they’re rapid-acting laxatives which means they’re not going to be happy.”
As if out of an incredible movie, the front door of the clubhouse busts open and Riggs comes storming out. He’s wearing only a pair of jeans, and his face is wild with anger as he charges toward the large industrial bin both our shops share and tosses a whole heap of blankets into it. Then, the blond girl who insulted me before, comes out, her face red and her other hand clutched to her stomach. She’s talking frantically at Riggs, no doubt apologizing for whatever the hell just unfolded in there. It’s probably the best thing I’ve ever seen.
I look to Ramona, and she’s laughing so hard she’s clutching her belly. She puts a hand up in the air, and I slap it with satisfaction. He deserved that, and so much more. I giggle loudly. That’s when Riggs looks right at us. His face is hard as he starts striding in our direction, rage flowing out of him.
“Oh, boy,” I say, giving Ramona a worried look.
“Stay calm,” she says, but her face is still broken with laughter and he’s going to know it was us.
“What the fuck did you do?” he growls as soon as he reaches us.
“Ah?” I say, confused.
Ramona snorts.
“Don’t play fuckin’ dumb with me, woman. What the fuck did you give them?”
“Who?” I say innocently.
“The two women who just shit all over my fuckin’ bed.”
Oh. That is juicy.
“Ohhh,” I say, scrunching up my nose. “That is quite a messy situation, isn’t it? What did you do to them? I hope it wasn’t anal play, you know that can get messy. Perhaps you should be a little gentler.”
He growls and leans down, snatching the bottle of vodka from my hand and hauling it across the parking lot. It smashes into heaps of tiny pieces, and I stare with wide eyes.
“You better get your broom out, biker, or you’ll have a full garage tomorrow with all those flat tires,” I point out.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he roars. “Are you fuckin’ stupid?”
I smile at him. “I still don’t know why you’re so angry at me.”
“Because you did this!”
“You kicked me out of the clubhouse, how would I do it? Did you see me in there? Was I in the room with you? I’m sure you wouldn’t have missed me, being so chunky and all ...”
He looks to Ramona and she blinks innocently at him. “Why are you looking at me? I didn’t go into that dirty old place.”
I get to my feet and walk over to the shattered bottle, picking up the pieces that I can grab with my hands. I straighten and turn around to find Riggs right in my face, and god, he smells good. I imagine his bedroom doesn’t, though.
“Can I help you?” I ask, not moving back even though he’s super close right about now.
“What sort of game are you playin’ at?”
I purse my lips as if thinking about that. “I’m not sure yet.”
“You think you got one over me? I can play way fuckin’ harder than you, woman. Way fuckin’ harder.”
“Yeesh, that’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”
With an angry growl, he spins around and strides across the parking lot, naked back on display, muscles rippling. I’m not going to lie, I spent more than a few moments during that conversation staring at his perfect body. It’s rude how chiseled he is, I mean, does the man work out or is that just how he looks?