Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 158191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 791(@200wpm)___ 633(@250wpm)___ 527(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 791(@200wpm)___ 633(@250wpm)___ 527(@300wpm)
“I’m striking out all over the place. You don’t like that I’m an attorney and you don’t like that I’m in a club.”
He shrugged, that roll of his wide shoulders so casual she got that weird slow somersault in the pit of her stomach again. He could do that to her so easily.
“We both have pasts, Scarlet. That’s what we’re here for, to talk about them.”
She lifted her gaze to look beyond him, sweeping the patio with the tables and brightly colored umbrellas. The rows of motorcycles and men seated, the two women. Immediately, she chose her targets. The big man, all muscle, seated at the middle table, with the shaved head and the dark, mirrored glasses would have to go first. She’d kill him and then the one seated to the left of him at the next table. The dark-haired woman who had come in the library …
“Stop it.” Absinthe’s voice was low. Commanding. Held a whip of fury. “Those people are my family. They protected you. They went out of their way to protect you. You don’t get to even think about killing them.”
She tilted her head to look at him. “What do you mean, they protected me?”
“I told you we had to talk. Let’s sit down.”
“I’ll be surrounded by your club.”
“You’ll be surrounded by my family. I can ask them to leave if you’re so damned worried. You aren’t a coward, Scarlet. I wanted you to know as much about me as fast as I could let you in. That was important to me. These people know me. They lived through the nightmare with me. If I want to let you in, then I can’t just give you a little part of me. I have to let you see who I am. Isn’t that what we talked about over the last couple of days?”
He was right. They had. She just hadn’t expected … this. But she should have. He rode a Harley like he’d been born on one. He’d referred to his “sisters” as women he’d been raised with. She’d thought they were in the foster care system with him. Now she knew he was from Russia and his family had been murdered. There was much more to his story, she realized. She did want to know all of it. She wanted to know every single detail because he was willing to tell her. He was right about her. She wasn’t a coward.
She looked at those seated, drinking coffee, talking together at the various tables. She’d registered the occasional arrival of a motorcycle while kissing Absinthe somewhere in the distant background, but nothing had mattered to her but his kisses—then. This was his family. Eighteen of them, he’d said. It wasn’t a big club. Not like the clubs Holden turned to when he wanted people to cooperate with him. When he wanted witnesses against his son to recant their testimony.
Scarlet took a deep breath and lifted her chin. “All right, Absinthe. Let’s go talk.” She had all her weapons on her. She would be closer to her targets.
He lifted his eyebrow but took her elbow and turned her toward the shaded tables on the patio. “I thought you’d feel better if we talked in a public place rather than at the clubhouse or my home.”
“I can see why.” She kept her voice low, trying not to sound sarcastic when she felt a little raw. She didn’t know what to think and so she did her best to keep her mind blank. She didn’t want to make a snap judgment. Absinthe had asked her to meet him in public. He had been open about his club first thing on her arrival. She couldn’t fault him on that.
“What would you like to drink?”
She’d been looking forward to a latte, but her churning stomach warned her that she’d better be careful. “I think I’ll stick with water for the moment.”
He nodded his understanding and made some sign she couldn’t really see to a man who had long hair swept back from his face and was unreasonably good-looking. Like Absinthe, he had more muscles than was good for him. He wore the jeans, tight tee and vest with motorcycle boots the rest of them did, but she could see why when he got up from his seat, several girls in cars waiting in the drive-thru hung out of their windows to watch him.
“Don’t like you staring at Master, baby. Eyes on me.”
“His name is Master? Really?”
“That’s what we call him for a number of reasons.”
He reached across the table and picked up her hand, the pad of his thumb sliding back and forth, mesmerizing her. She should have pulled away from him, just to keep her wits about her, but she couldn’t resist him.
“Thank God you’re not called that.”
“You wouldn’t call me Master?”