Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 103637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
The driver rushed over to Freckles as soon as he was allowed and dragged the moaning, bleeding sack of flesh to the car.
On a whim he couldn’t explain, Arden picked up a red-stained tooth out of the sand. His jaw still hurt, and his fingers trembled, but he didn’t want to cry anymore.
He flinched when someone kneeled right next to him, but then he smelled Mike’s favorite cologne, and the goons, nor the desert didn’t seem all that scary anymore. Strong arms pulled him close, until his head was tucked under Mike’s chin, and they stilled, both gasping from pent-up stress.
“You okay, baby? I’m here,” Mike whispered in the softest of voices.
“Now I am,” Arden said and hugged Mike tightly, running his fingers over the patches at the back of Mike’s vest. He’d never known this kind of safety and he had no idea just how much he’d craved it until today.
The other bikers were busy dealing with the goons, and there might have even been some fuckery going on with helping them change the wheel in the broken-down car, but he didn’t listen and didn’t care, focused only on Mike’s breath and the steadiness of his hug. It wasn’t sexual, but spoke of closeness he’d never experienced before.
“I’ll take you home now. You need to put some ice on your face.”
They got up, and Arden realized he couldn’t have risen if it wasn’t for Mike’s steady grip on him. His knees were like rattles, and while his mind was freakishly calm, aid proved necessary.
He opened his palm and showed the tooth to Mike. “Can I keep it?”
Mike’s brows lifted. “I suppose,” but he seemed more curious than weirded out as he guided Arden to the orange bike.
The club president watched them while his children dealt with the two goons. “It’s been a smart choice to stay with us,” he said as Mike and Arden walked past him.
“Thank you so much, sir.” Arden made a point of showing his gratitude, because if the club president hadn’t agreed to him staying, he wouldn’t have had his new sanctuary.
Just last week he’d been complaining to his sister about the clubhouse being a dumpster, but everything had changed since Mike’s arrival, and this day hit him with the realization that his relationship with the Smokeys could be the difference between life and death.
So he sat behind the man who protected him with the fierceness of a loving guard dog, and closed his eyes as fatigue settled in, sinking deep into muscle. Pain pulsed where Freckles had punched him, but today could have ended so much worse, and seeing Mike mete out punishment for his suffering kind of made up for all the fear he’d experienced during the kidnapping.
He wasn’t even sure how much time had passed, but the ride back to the clubhouse didn’t take that long, and when Mike parked in the courtyard, Arden still didn’t quite feel like himself.
“Mike? What the hell happened? We just got here, and Mom said there had been an emergency?”
Leo.
Arden slid off the motorcycle under the scrutiny of Leo’s husband, Zolt. All the bikers were in good shape. Even Jeff, the youngest, hit the gym every day, but Zolt was a bull of a man with a black beard and dark eyes that seemed to know everyone’s weak points.
“You okay, kid? You’re bleeding,” he observed in his deep baritone.
Arden instantly slid his hand into Mike’s. “I’ve got an ex who won’t give it a rest, but maybe now he’ll get the memo.”
Mike exhaled and squeezed Arden’s fingers. “They would have gotten away if Arden hadn’t managed to call me from the station. It was real fucking close,” he said with an odd strain to his voice.
Leo walked up to them and pulled his brother into the briefest hug, as if it was Mike, not Arden who needed comfort.
“But you caught up. That’s what counts,” Leo said with a sigh, meeting Arden’s eyes for the first time since they’d met.
“Is everyone else okay?” Zolt asked, hovering close to his husband.
Mike waved his hand, while still holding Arden with the other. “Yeah, those guys were fuckups. I need a drink.”
Zolt raised his eyebrows and pointed to Mike’s bloodstained T-shirt. “What you need is a washing machine.”
Mike looked at the fabric with a scowl, and pulled it off, revealing his muscular torso, all shiny with blond hairs that glistened in the sun, making the realistic depiction of a male lion’s head tattooed there come alive. The animal’s flowy mane transitioned into branches and leaves as it entered his shoulders, creating the backdrop for fantastically colorful birds that also inhabited the skin of Mike’s back, around the sepia-brown club tattoo of a skull with smoke coming out of its eyes.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll put it into cold water,” Mike said and tugged Arden toward the club bar. He ignored several hangarounds who watched them in silence, acknowledging the signs that Mike had been in a fight yet not asking about it.