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)
But Donovan? He did.
“I’m sorry babe,” he said. “Don’t be pissed.”
“I should be mad at you,” I said. “But I’m not. Accidents happen. Do you always like to drive fast?”
“No. It depends on my mood. When I need it, driving fast gives me an adrenaline burst. But sometimes it’s nice just to take a drive at a normal pace.”
“Do you miss racing?”
“I wasn’t much of a racer for long. I graduated to running the races pretty quickly. Saw an opportunity to make some real money, not just the kind I’d get from winning a race.”
“Why’d you stop?”
“It was just time to move on. The racing scene changed slowly, then all at once. It didn’t feel like it used to.”
“Did you become a biker right after?” I asked, knowing he didn’t, but not really sure how much time transpired between that and when he’d become a biker. Or what he’d been up to.
“No. I fucked around with some shit I shouldn’t have been involved in for a few years first,” he admitted, voice going a shade more guarded.
“I’m not going to pry,” I said, noticing how tightly his hand was gripping the wheel.
“It’s not that,” he said, and I saw his gaze shoot to the rearview, then the side mirrors, that tension in his jaw getting worse.
And, somehow, I knew.
I knew before I even glanced into the mirror as well, seeing a car racing up on us.
“It… it could just be some dumb kids,” I suggested, voice tight.
“It’s not some dumb kids,” he said, exhaling hard. “I never should have taken you out of the fucking clubhouse,” he hissed, angry with himself even though there was no way he could have anticipated someone following us. Maybe even the same someone who’d knocked him off his bike, and tried to run him over.
“You couldn’t have known,” I insisted even as I reached for my phone.
“Your sister won’t have her phone,” Donovan said.
“I know. I’m texting McCoy,” I said, surprised by how even my tone was, how steady my fingers on the keypad. “Where are we? About?” I asked, then shot off the information as Donovan took a turn so fast that my body slammed into the door.
Not wanting to lose my phone, I tucked it back into my purse that was jammed between me and the door, then reached up for the bar and held on.
“I’m fucking sorry, Maeve,” he said as his foot pressed down on the pedal.
The car behind us lagged, making hope bloom inside of me for a second that maybe we were both just being paranoid. But then it floored it as well even as Donovan took another turn.
I expected to be absolutely losing my mind in this sort of situation. Mind racing, feeling sick.
Oddly enough, I felt almost… focused. Clear-headed and slowed down.
My heartbeat was hammering, but I felt it in a detached sort of way, like I wasn’t even fully a part of my physical body anymore.
I just sat there, watching Donovan as he masterfully moved the car around the road, down side roads, around random potholes or something unknown in the middle of the street.
The car behind us struggled a bit, but stayed close.
“Honey,” Donovan called, making me jolt, having gotten so used to the relative silence of this little car chase.
“Yeah?”
“You’re not going to like this. And you might want to brace yourself a little more,” he said.
I barely had time to push my legs and press my other hand into the dash when the car flew into a side street, taking the turn so fast the car spun. Not once. Not twice. Three times before it got righted.
But I couldn’t even catch my breath or get my vision to stop spinning before the car was taking off again, going faster than before.
It took a solid moment for me to realize that the other car wasn’t behind us anymore.
“One more minute,” Donovan said, reaching to cut the lights, then whipping the car backward, making my belly drop.
Then the car was suddenly hidden behind an old shed seemingly out in the middle of nowhere.
He cut the engine, making the car go dark, so no one could see it, then turned toward me, his hand going to my cheek.
“You okay?” he asked, concern clear in his voice.
I shouldn’t have been.
I should have been trembling and crying and freaking the hell out.
And, sure, my breath was a little fast. My pulse felt like it was pounding in a thousand places at once.
But I felt… okay.
No.
That wasn’t even right.
Not even close.
I felt very, very alive.
I wasn’t surprised by my boldness this time, not with my blood thrumming through my veins, with adrenaline making me feel almost drunk on living.
Flicking off my seatbelt, I turned to face Donovan, reaching out to frame his face, then sealing my lips to his.