Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“Hey, you never know what you might need, right? Besides, don’t act all high-and-mighty. We both know you are going to grab your laptop bag and about six books before we leave.”
She had me there.
And I did, in fact, grab my laptop bag and the one from the book store before we all piled into the bikers’ SUV.
I wanted to ask why we weren’t allowed to take our own cars. Triss didn’t seem bothered, so I figured it was another of those situations where I was being paranoid and worried over nothing.
I knew the Henchmen clubhouse, of course. While I had never actually been inside, I had joy-ridden past it a few times. So I knew where it was, and there was nothing surprising about the exterior.
But I had to admit, I was excited to see the inside for myself for the first time.
Though I had to admit that as we walked up to the door, I was almost overwhelmed with a feeling of guilt at going inside while not telling them who I was, what I had done.
As if sensing this, Triss turned, pressing a finger to her lips.
If Triss, who fundamentally refused to keep any secrets, thought that I needed to keep this one, then, by God, I damn sure wasn’t about to say anything.
I really hoped it was the right decision, though, because as the door closed behind me, there seemed to be no going back.
CHAPTER SIX
Maeve
I guess, despite their clubhouse being, well, a house, I hadn’t exactly expected it to be so homey.
They were a group of rough-and-tumble, outlaw bikers, after all.
But it was homey.
A little… on the typical masculine side, but comfortable.
The living room was dominated by a black leather sectional. Across from that was a big TV.
The staircase was behind the TV wall, and to the side of it was the kitchen toward the back of the house.
Where everyone seemed to be congregated.
“Oh, my God. That smells good,” Triss declared, and, well, I had to agree.
That was Eddie’s doing, there was no doubt about that. He was the designated cook for the club. And the word was, he was very good at it.
I had to admit that I was really excited to try it out firsthand.
“Come on, come on,” Eddie called, waving us through the house. “Nothing like some good food to ease your nerves,” he said.
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Triss said, already reaching for a plate while the guys dragged her things inside, setting them on the back staircase.
Donovan moved behind me, going over toward the kitchen table, and slowly lowering himself down.
Clearly, the ride in the car had done a number on him. And, yeah, the potholes had been pretty rough. I couldn’t imagine going over them with a fractured rib.
“Hey, can I get you a plate?” I asked when I moved over toward the table.
The look he gave me was soft.
“That would be great,” he said, giving me a small smile. “Thank you.”
Some of the other guys started rolling into the kitchen, and Triss was quick to engage them in conversation as I filled up two plates and brought them over to the table.
“How are you holding up?” Donovan asked.
“I think that’s my question,” I said, shaking my head at him.
“Except, I wasn’t the one who had their house broken into tonight,” he said.
“No, just run over and almost killed,” I shot back, getting a little smirk out of him.
“Been a rough twenty-four hours for both of us then,” he conceded. “I’m sorry our shit is making your life harder.”
“I hardly think you getting almost killed is your fault.” His brows raised at that before he glanced around the room. “Oh, right,” I said. “Still. No one deserves to be mowed down in the street.”
“On that, I guess we can agree,” he said, nodding.
“Was that your first accident?” I asked.
“On a bike? Yes. In general? No. I’ve been in more wrecks than I even remember,” he admitted. “I used to race cars when I was young and stupid. Then, as I got older, I just ran the races for other young and stupid guys and girls,” he said, shrugging.
“Then you became a biker,” I concluded.
“Well, there were some years in between,” he said, but his tone was a little more guarded when he spoke of that. And as much as I wanted to know, I wasn’t someone who pressed.
“Oh, ah, the bird is…” I started, but it was too late, he’d already reached outward, taking a big bite out of Donovan’s foam neck brace.
“Mackie, damnit,” Donovan hissed, reaching back to touch the spot he’d bitten out.
“Fuck you… Benny,” Mackie declared through his beak full of foam.
“Don’t worry. I’ll get it,” Triss declared, walking over toward the bird.
“Ah, he isn’t friendly, pretty girl,” Eddie warned.
“Neither was Solomon,” she said.
“Our grandfather’s Amazon parrot,” I explained. “He was thirty years old before I was even born,” I added.