Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 83970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“You live at the clubhouse?” I ask as I pick up my fork.
“I stay there sometimes, but I have a house in town.”
I take a bite of food as he continues.
“I’m going to be there alone with…” I swallow roughly and cut my eyes at the table with the other bikers. “You’re not going to be there?”
He gives me what I’m certain he knows is a panty-melting smile. It’s a knowing smile, a smile that says he’s well aware I want him there. He has it all wrong because I need him there to feel safe.
“I’ll stay there as long as you’re there, Em.” His voice is reassuring with only a hint of the seduction left from his smile just a second ago. “I have no clue what type of man your husband is, but I’m not taking any chances. The safest place in the world you can be is at that club.” I watch his lips as he wipes his mouth with his napkin. “My brothers will protect you with their life.”
I smile at him. “You have brothers there?” I wonder if they look as good as he does.
“The club is like a family. I do have a brother; he’s older.” My smile grows, and he raises an eyebrow at me, but he doesn’t call me out on my response to the brother news. “He’s still in active service and won’t be home for a couple of months, but the guys in the club are all like brothers to me. We’re a family.”
Family.
Such a simple word, but one that carries with it so much responsibility and support.
“Even Wrench?” I ask sarcastically.
“Well, Wrench is another story. I was very close to his younger brother Socket, but he didn’t make it back from his last tour.” He sits back further in the booth and clears his throat; the emotion obviously not something he’s comfortable with.
“Wrench and Socket. Brothers,” I say playfully. “Seriously?”
He smiles back at me. “They were mechanics.” He shrugs his shoulders. “It just fit.”
“And they call you Kincaid. Why?”
“I doodle.” He smirks at me, his chocolate brown eyes glistening.
“Doodle?” I ask with a laugh.
“I like to draw. The guys started calling me Kincaid as a joke.” He shrugs, “It stuck.”
I tilt my head in confusion.
“Thomas Kincaid was a painter. He usually did houses, cottages, and landscapes,” he explains. “The guys I went to boot camp with weren’t very original.”
The conversation continues easily during the meal until Diego excuses himself. The second he stands and walks toward the exit, Shadow takes his spot in the booth across from me. He doesn’t say anything he’s just there. Oddly, it’s comforting and not awkward at all.
Chapter 6
Kincaid
“No, Doc,” I say into the phone. “Not even her. I want them all gone before we get there.”
“The boys you got with you aren’t going to be happy when they get here,” Doc says with a light laugh.
“They can go elsewhere. I want the clubhouse cleared. Members only. We’ll be rolling in about nine,” I tell him after a quick glance at the screen of my phone.
“Shadow said you were acting strange.” There is no inflection in his voice.
“Y’all need to quit gossiping like fucking teenage girls. Do you think you can handle it or do I need to talk to Itchy about it?” I hear him huff. Itchy is one of the newest, most ambitious members. I’m not close to him, but I appreciate his eagerness to help when other members ask. Doc is older, and although I’d trust him with every secret I’ve ever had, he’s not the first one to raise his hand when it comes to menial tasks.
“Asshole,” he spits in the phone and hangs up. I laugh because I know he’s going to take care of everything I asked.
I can’t hide the club girls from her. Hell, they’ll probably be there when she wakes up in the morning, but I don’t want her to be hit in the face with them the minute she steps foot into the clubhouse. The thought about the club girls reminds me immediately, with a sharp ache in my balls, that my plans for release were interrupted last night by Emmalyn’s asshole husband. Not that I regret the situation I’m in right now. I’d be lying if I said I was only interested in her safe escape from the asshole.
Unexplainably, I feel drawn to her. I don’t know if it’s her incredibly aware, blue eyes, the sway of her hips when she walks away, or the way my heart speeds up a bit when I hear her voice. All I know is the last time I got a rush of adrenaline like I do with her was years ago when I had my first enemy combatant in the crosshairs of my sniper rifle.
Then, the rush was from the possibility of loss of life, mine as well as the terrorists. Now? I’m afraid my reaction to her is much deadlier than even the most critical of missions the Marine’s ever sent me on.