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)
Triss.
Suddenly, I felt guilty for not asking to speak to her.
“Triss is meeting us back at the clubhouse. Once we had a lead, we had Levee and Booker bring her back there. With the dog. Alaric and Ama. Eddie.”
“Can we not return home now?” I asked, confused.
“I am just going to be cautious,” he said. “I want to make sure all this shit has truly blown over before I feel comfortable with that. I’m sorry,” he added, shaking his head.
“Don’t be. I like being at the clubhouse,” I told him. “And not just because of Eddie’s cooking. But I will admit, that is a pretty big part of it,” I said, shooting him a smile.
“I would be offended if I didn’t understand completely,” he agreed.
“And, well, I kind of maybe like spending time with you too,” I told him.
“Just kind of maybe?” he asked. “Because I was pretty sure that, back there, you’d been trying to shield me with your body. Seems a bit more than kind of maybe.”
“I know things are kind of new,” I said. “But I really like being with you,” I told him.
“Good. Because you’re stuck with me,” he said as he pulled to a light, and leaned toward me to try to press a kiss to my face. “What’s the matter?” he asked, stiffening when I pulled away.
“Okay, I like you and all, right?” I said.
“Right.”
“But you stink. Like… really stink,” I told him, getting a chuckle out of him before he leaned in and rubbed his swamp water hair all down the side of my face.
“Look at that. Now you stink too. I guess we will have to take a shower together and fix that.”
“I guess I can be… persuaded into that. What happens with your cast now?” I asked.
“Guess we have to saw it off,” he said, shrugging. “It’s no big deal,” he assured me. “I cut several of them off in my day. Ama is going to want to re-cast it, but I might see if I can talk her into letting me wear a splint until I can get a 3D printed one.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “Seeley knows a guy.”
“You’re really getting the hang of being a part of this club,” he said, his smile almost a little proud.
“Which is good. Because I’m pretty sure you’re stuck with me now. And Triss.”
“She’s going to want a blow-by-blow of every single moment of this ordeal,” he said, clearly knowing her as well as I was beginning to know his people.
“Yeah, she is,” I agreed.
“Then bitch about why can’t she ever be the one to get kidnapped.”
That was absolutely what she did, too. Over a giant spread of food that Eddie had been working on. While the macaw stole food and our new dog slept with her head on my lap.
Eventually, the guys came home, looking exhausted. And I could see how trying to reason with a woman like Natalya could do that to them.
And, some time later, after recounting the story once again to Huck and the others, and Donovan got his cast cut off by Seeley, then braced by Ama who lectured him about the swamp water and his road rash, it was finally time to go upstairs.
Thank God.
Because Donovan was getting stinkier with each passing moment.
As much as we’d both implied that we wanted a sexy shower, by the time we climbed our tired bones in there, all we could manage was getting ourselves clean, Donovan’s rashes treated, then partially dressed, and falling back into bed.
And even without sex, with just curling up close and enjoying each other’s company, it was all just… so perfect.
You know… until the next morning.
When Arty dropped by the clubhouse and screwed it all up…
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Maeve
“Hey, your website isn’t secure.”
Those were the first words the elusive, slovenly genius known as Arty said to me as he walked into the kitchen the next morning for breakfast.
Half of us were there.
Me and Eddie, working on food. Donovan, Cato, Levee, and Alaric at the table. Triss was attempting to place a bowl full of chopped veggies on an uncooperative Mackie’s cage.
Fuck… you… Benny.
Dolores was sitting a few feet away from the kitchen island, hoping to snag a fallen piece of food.
Somewhere off in the front of the house, soft music was playing.
It had all just been a nice, quiet, familiar sort of morning, one I wanted to get a million more of.
Then there was Arty.
Dropping a bomb in the kitchen.
I was going to tell them all.
Of course I was.
But things had been crazy enough since Triss and I found ourselves in the biker clubhouse.
I just wanted things to die down a little before I stirred it all up again.
And, of course, I wanted to tell Donovan in private first. Though, truthfully, I had absolutely no idea how I was going to broach such a sensitive topic.