Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
"Sounds good. I'll hold down the fort," Brooks said, hopping up, likely to go check and make sure Dezi was doing more cleaning than snooping.
With that, I got on my bike, wanting to get away for a bit to clear my head. Which, lately, had been occupied far too often with thoughts of a certain blonde with a bad attitude.
I had no business thinking about her.
It was a one-time thing. Alright, fine, one and a half. But each incident had been a mistake. There was nothing else to call them. If my club had found out what I'd done, they'd blow gaskets. You didn't fuck the woman who had your father kidnapped, who threatened the livelihood of your club. That was a line no leader crossed.
For fuck's sake, it wasn't something a halfway decent son did, considering the circumstances.
Regardless of all of that, though, I couldn't keep her out of my head. Not when I was up and trying to focus on daily tasks. And damn sure not when I was asleep, leaving me waking up hard and frustrated.
And that frustration? Some sick, masochistic part of me refused to get relief from it by taking a woman home from the bar even though there'd been many to choose from.
I didn't know what the fuck was wrong with me, but it needed to stop.
I wasn't sure why I figured a long ride might be a good idea since all that did was leave me alone with my thoughts that kept circling back to her.
An hour later and with a mind no more clear, I turned the bike back toward Navesink Bank.
Everything was fine, normal. Until I turned down the shortcut I always took to avoid the highway to get back to Navesink Bank.
It was there that something—no, someone—darted out of the woods in front of my bike. There was hardly any time to do anything but jerk the bike to the side to avoid a collision. The second I did it, though, I knew I overcorrected.
But it was too late.
The bike was spinning.
And then I was flying.
Up over the handlebars, my stomach dropping, my heart leaping upward as I shot forward in the air before crashing down on the ground.
The impact stole my breath even as the pain ricocheted through my body.
My shoulder screamed as the skin on the back of my hands scraped across the asphalt.
"Fuck," I hissed as soon as I threw myself onto my back, disoriented for a moment before my gaze landed on a hoodie-clad figure approaching.
My hand went for my holster, grabbing my gun, adrenaline surging through my system. "Back up," I demanded with as much ferocity as I could muster when it felt like there was a crater on my chest from the impact. "Back the..." I started, trailing off when I saw a flash of metal in the figure's hand as they got closer.
I didn't stop to think.
There wasn't time.
I was too injured to fight someone or get up to get away.
I had one choice.
And that was to shoot.
So I raised the gun as best I could with my dominant shoulder being the one I'd jacked up on landing, and I squeezed the trigger.
Once.
Twice.
Both shooting off into the woods behind the figure as the gun in their hand raised.
"Fuck," I snapped to myself, sucking in a deep breath as I raised my arm as high as I could, and fired again.
Once.
Twice.
I watched as the second one slammed into their shoulder, making them drop the gun in shock.
Before I could pull the trigger again, they were turning and running from where they'd come from, leaving me alone on a rural road.
"Goddamnit," I growled, folding upward, trying to swing over to stand, but nearly face-planting at the pain that shot through my knee when I tried to put weight onto it. "Fuck," I snapped again, pressing a hand to the ground to push myself up instead.
Phone.
I needed my phone.
Reaching into my back pocket, I felt a sinking sensation when I felt a curve that should not have existed. "For fuck's sake," I sighed, pulling it out to find it bent at cracked. Useless. Fucking useless.
I made my way across the road, grabbing the other gun, checking it for bullets, then tucking it into my holster as I held onto my own, the weight and feel comforting in my hand as I wobbled over to my bike, trying to ignore my knee and shoulder, so I could see if there was any way I could drive it back to the clubhouse to get some reinforcements to try to search the woods.
But the fucking thing was a loss.
Totaled.
I was just trying to steel myself to the idea of half-dragging myself into town when I heard a bike rumbling up the road from Navesink Bank, making hope surge up, figuring it was one of the guys from the club heading home after the meeting.