Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Only this one is worse. Much worse.
“Fuckin’ tryin’, Prez. Unless Charlie Andrews ain’t her real name, which is likely, I can’t find fuck all on her. Fuckin’ nothing.”
“Could it have been buried?” I ask him.
“Very fuckin’ likely. If she’s got somethin’ to hide, she may have changed her name for protection. Whatever it is, Treyton managed to figure it out, so I will, too.”
I grunt, and cross my arms. “Charlie has secrets. Big ones. Dark ones. And I want to know what they are. If they could endanger my club, I need to know.”
“Feel you, Prez, but strugglin’ to find anything. Never been so hard getting information on a person before. She’s well hidden.”
“Well, see what you can find. Need to protect this club, now more than ever. We had our suspicions Treyton wasn’t working alone, and was workin’ for someone higher. Startin’ to see that’s the truth, and a dangerous truth. He wasn’t afraid to die. Wasn’t scared at all. Whoever he’s workin’ for, is deadly.”
“You’re tellin’ me,” Koda mutters, exhaling. “I’ll keep digging. I will find out how Charlie is connected. How’s Amalie?”
“Came home yesterday. She’s doin’ okay. Recovering slowly. Not happy about bein’ stuck inside.”
“Poor girl, at least she’s safe, yeah?”
“Yeah, for now. You seen Charlie?”
He shakes his head. “No, but heard she’s doin’ okay, still in hospital, think she gets out tomorrow.”
“When she’s good, we’ll ask her some questions.”
Koda nods. “Yeah. I’ll keep diggin’.”
“We gotta find out who is behind all of this, Treyton gone is one less burden, but there’s someone else out there waitin’ to strike, linin’ all this up, and I don’t have a good feelin’ about it.”
“No,” Koda mutters. “Neither.”
“Gotta get home for a bit, let me know when you find anything.”
He nods, and I walk out of the club and towards my bike. Amalie is at home, Scarlett with her, but the idea of them being there, still makes me uneasy. Even if I have three fuckin’ men watchin’ my house. I kick my bike into action and ride home, parking outside of my front door and throwing my leg over, walking inside.
I can hear music the moment I step in, two soft, angelic voices singing. Fuckin’ sweetest sound I’ve ever heard in my damn life. I follow it down the hall and to the living area where Scarlett and Amalie are both singing softly. Scarlett is playing the guitar, Amalie just singing along. I stop and watch them for a moment, loving the way Amalie closes her eyes when she sings, still not trusting her own voice. Scarlett plays the guitar as if it was born in her arms, and when she notices me, she smiles and stops playing.
Amalie’s eyes pop open.
She’s still beat up bad, but she’s getting better every day.
Nothing could take away from the utter perfection that she is.
Nothing.
“You girls sound fuckin’ amazing.”
Amalie smiles. “We were just practicing for the concerts next month, making sure the sound is right.”
“Not too sure about this concert business,” I mutter.
Amalie grins. “It’s what we do, Malakai. Nothing is going to stop that.”
“You nearly copped a bullet,” I point to Scarlett, then my finger moves to Amalie, “And you got taken by a fuckin’ psycho. Last concert didn’t end well for anyone.”
“Treyton’s gone now,” Scarlett says, studying me.
Girl isn’t stupid. She knows something else is going on.
“Doesn’t mean the danger is gone,” I mumble and both of their eyes swing to me.
“Are we still in danger?” Amalie asks.
I shrug, not willing to give them too much information. “All I know is that Treyton was workin’ for someone, don’t know if that someone has a problem with us, too. Guess time will tell.”
That’s a damned understatement.
“Oh,” Amalie murmurs, rubbing her arms.
I walk over to her, leaning down and capturing her chin in my hands. “Ain’t nobody puttin’ a fuckin’ hand on you ever again, you hear?”
She nods.
And fuck, I want her.
If she wasn’t so beat up, I’d have her.
Every second of every fuckin’ day.
“Love you,” she whispers, her voice soft.
“Love you, too.”
I press a kiss to her lips. Tastes like heaven. Makes it a whole lot harder to stay away.
“Aw,” Scarlett croons. “You softened the old angry biker.”
Amalie giggles and I shoot Scarlett a glare, to which she winks and grins at me.
Pretty fuckin’ pain in my ass.
“I’ll leave you two to get back to your music. I got shit to do, just wanted to check in.”
Both girls grin at me.
And damn if I’m not the luckiest fuckin’ man in this world.
The luckiest.
-19-
AMALIE
“Caiden?”
I blink once, and then twice, because I’m sure I can’t be seeing this correctly.
Sitting in his wheelchair at my front door, looking a little sheepish, and a whole lot nervous, is Caiden. As far as I know, he only leaves his house if he absolutely has to go see a doctor and one can’t come to him, otherwise he hasn’t gone out of those front doors since the accident. He’s alone, which means he got here on his own.