Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 41038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Big knew Mayhem would let the bastard live, but he’d also get his fair share of retribution in for his sister.
This little asshole would think twice about his actions, that was a goddamned guarantee.
22
One week later
Claire stared at her stuff packed in boxes, felt this sense of closure fill her, and knew that she’d never really belonged here. She couldn’t help but smile.
Although she didn’t know exactly what Big and Mayhem had done to Steven, she knew they’d hurt him but also that they’d let him live.
The prospects kept coming in and leaving with boxes in their arms, filling up the back of the moving van that was parked out on the curb. She leaned against the kitchen counter, stared around as the rooms started becoming emptier with each passing minute, and felt like things were going the way they were supposed to.
She’d screwed up by leaving Big and everyone behind, thinking that she’d never have what she wanted in life.
But the truth was, if she’d just been honest from the beginning, things could have, might have, been so much different.
She couldn’t fix the past, so she had to focus on the future, and that was with the dangerous, sometimes scary, biker named Big.
As if he heard her thoughts, he stepped through the opened front door, sunglasses partially hiding his face, the sun streaming in behind him and casting a darkness on the front half of him. He was large, powerful, and she knew he’d go to the ends of the world to make sure she was safe.
What more could she ask for in a man?
He moved toward her, his big body like a predator stalking closer to kill its prey. But damn, did she want to be his prey, want to be under him as he devoured her. He wore that leather cut like the devil himself, and his dark t-shirt and the jeans he wore didn’t detract from the fact this man was lethal in all ways.
“Hey, baby,” he said and pulled her into his arms. He smelled of leather and motor oil, of the spicy cologne that surrounded him, and the warmth of him from where the sun touched his masculine body when he rode on his motorcycle. It all seeped into her. “You gonna miss this place?”
“Hell no,” she said and still held on to him.
“Good.” He held her a little tighter. “Are you ready to get out of here?”
She leaned back, looked at his face, at the scruff along his cheeks, the fact his dark hair was growing out and a little shaggy, and her love for him grew.
“Let’s ride and get the fuck out of here.” He pulled her toward the front door, and she took one more look at her place.
She’d spent a lot of nights here thinking about the mistake she’d made, about how she missed the club and Big, and how it would have been easy to just go back there. She’d hated this place on some level, even though it had been her escape.
No more running.
She was going to just follow her heart from now on and be honest with Big on how she felt and what she wanted. That was the only way this would work.
23
Mayhem watched Butters behind the bar, and like a fucking creep, he stayed in the corner of the club, the shadows hiding him.
He’d met her last year at a bar, and even though he could tell himself he’d asked her to work with the club because of her charisma—because she hadn’t taken any shit from the guys at the bar—or because of her skill with drinks, the main reason he’d asked her to work with the club was because he wanted her.
His desire for her had been instant.
Mayhem had fucked his fair share of women, a lot of the club bitches who hung around, and really any woman who didn’t care or want a commitment or relationship. He wasn’t into the whole old lady bullshit, didn’t want someone clinging to him expecting to have him watch her back.
What Mayhem wanted was a good fuck, the best fuck he’d ever had, and looking at Butters, knowing she was probably so sweet between the thighs, would be so fucking hot in his bed, Mayhem had grown obsessed thinking about it.
But keeping that shit deep down was the façade he’d play.
He didn’t show anyone his emotions, not even Claire. That was for the weak, a male who wasn’t prepared to kill with his bare hands to protect his club and his family.
Butters grabbed a bottle of whiskey and tilted it in her hands. She had on a crop top, her tits big and bouncy as she moved because she was braless.
She knew how to tempt a man but was the type of woman that if one of them got too close to her without an invitation she would cut their balls off.