Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Hell no.
Just remember, son, actions speak louder than words.
New mission: fix what the fuck I messed up.
I reach up and rub my chin. Step one: shower and shave. No one wants to be with a man who smells like a bar and looks like a homeless man. Step two: face Tank. Before I can even reach out to Desirae, I need to make things right with the Hellions who trusted us to keep her safe. I failed her and them.
Once I get those things in order, I can find her and hope I have half a chance of fixing this.
I leave the club, jump in my Camaro, and drive to my new place on the second floor in a high rise with an ocean view just up the road. It costs more monthly, but I don’t give a fuck. I couldn’t stand to sit in my old condo and relive the day Desirae was taken out of our home. Leaving it behind, along with all the furniture in it, was almost therapeutic. Not to mention, I only have one set of stairs to deal with now.
Once I park next to my motorcycle and get out, I can’t take my eyes of the machine I haven’t ridden since that day I took Des out on it. I even had Coal ride it over here when the brothers were helping me move what little shit I did bring with me to my new place. I guess not riding my bike was a form of self-punishment. As ridiculous as it may sound, I convinced myself that, if I wasn’t strong enough to protect my woman, I’m not strong enough to ride my machine.
Looking at the polished metal and leather seat, I realize I need to fix this mistake, too. At least that’s easily done. It’s time to let the Camaro sit in the parking garage for a while.
If only getting my woman back could be that easy…
~Desirae~
Paisley lets herself in my apartment, carrying a vegetable tray from the grocery store she works at. I can’t help laughing. The tray is almost bigger than her. She’s pretty short at five-foot-two, and even if I stuffed her full of chocolate cake, she would probably only weigh in at a hundred twenty pounds. Not because she starves herself, but because she is a health nut who works out at my gym on a daily basis. The woman is so tiny she barely passes my shoulder, and a stiff wind could blow her over.
“It’s Tuesday night. This is supposed to be cheat night. No vegetables allowed. Morgan made the rule,” I tell her.
Paisley wiggles her eyebrows at me. “Live a little. Rules are meant to be broken.”
Laughing, I quip back, “You should take your own advice, sister, and break your no dating rule to go out with Scotty.” I take the tray from her hand, and we make our way inside.
Paisley chides me as we make our way to my kitchen. “Thanks, but no thanks, sister. He may say he has the hots for me, but I don’t think he’s interested in anyone but himself. Have you seen the way he blows kisses to himself in the mirrors at the gym? Besides, have you seen the size of that guy? He would crush me like a bug! I think I’ll keep my eye out for a guy more appropriate for my size. You know, one who won’t crush me if we ever make it to the bedroom. Give up on the Scotty thing, because you’re wasting your breath.”
I laugh at her rant as I set her vegetable tray on the kitchen counter. My new place is nice, but no matter what I do, it doesn’t quite feel like home. Evan helped me pick out some furniture and necessities, but as much as I love Miami, something is missing from my life.
It doesn’t take a genius to know Ethan ‘Hammer’ McCoy is what made this town feel like home. Sometimes, I wonder if I should have gone back to North Carolina instead of staying here, but the thought of going back to where my sister was murdered is unbearable. North Carolina will never again be the home it once was for me.
Morgan knocks, and I yell for her to come on in.
After Ethan left me at Evan’s, it was Morgan who packed up and brought me my belongings. She also helped me find a job and a new place to live. She has become a good friend, and I’m thankful to have her and Paisley in my life.
“You didn’t bring some sappy, I-love-you romance movie, did you?” I ask seriously.
Morgan loves to watch the heartfelt emotional ones, while I want action and adventure.
“Look, I’m with a biker.” Morgan defends herself. “You lived with bikers for, like, forever, so you should know I’ve gotta get my I-love-you mush somewhere.”