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)
I release her face and take a step back trying to ignore the echo of her laugh as it settles in my thickening cock. I resist the urge to adjust myself into a more comfortable position and clear my throat. I angle my head to the bed.
“Rose got you a couple of things to wear. It’s enough for tonight and tomorrow. She’s going to take you to buy more tomorrow.” I take a step toward the door. “The bathroom should have enough for tonight. Make a list of what’s not in there so you can grab it tomorrow.”
Before I can leave the room, she finally speaks up. “Diego.”
I turn my attention back to her.
“Thank you,” she whispers with sincerity.
I take a few steps toward her. I lean in and kiss her cheek softly, smiling at the low hum that ghosts past her lips. “Anytime,” I breathe into her ear. “I’m going to order some pizza. Usually takes them about an hour to get it here. Grab a shower,” I say stepping back from her before I give into the voice in my head telling me to taste her lips. “Wash the day off of you and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
“Okay,” she says softly as I walk toward the door and close it quietly behind me, smiling when I hear the lock engage.
I round the corner into the common area and see Wrench leaning against the wall. He doesn’t say anything, but he has a look on his face that makes me want to punch him in the nose.
“I was serious before and I’m serious now, Wrench. Keep your distance from her.” He sneers at me but doesn’t say a word. I immediately regret the bylaws I wrote years ago when this club came to fruition.
Chapter 7
Emmalyn
I lock the door behind Diego the second he leaves and look down at the twin keys in my hand. I have no reason to doubt him, so I’m pretty certain these are, just like he said, the only keys to this door.
I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’m waiting for him to change, paying attention to each and every mannerism. His consistency has set my mind slightly at ease, but I know better than to let my guard down completely, especially in the middle of a motorcycle club’s home turf, which is loaded with big burly men. I have no clue if any of them are trustworthy, and I have to assume, for my own safety, that each and every one of them is just as creepy as Wrench.
I sit on the edge of the bed that’s big enough for a handful of people to sleep comfortably in and open my purse. He wants me to go shopping tomorrow. With what? I think as I open the small zipper section and squeeze my fingers into the small tear in the pocket. I wiggle them around until I find the folded cash I have there. I was going to add this to the envelope Bobby found yesterday. Thank God I didn’t.
I tug it free, unfold, and count it. $24. Add that to the loose change in the bottom of my purse and I may be pushing twenty-six dollars. I can buy an entirely new wardrobe with it; I think and even in my head, the sarcasm is pitiful.
“How the hell am I supposed to go shopping tomorrow when I’m totally broke?” I mumble to myself as I scoop the bag of clothes off of the bed and lock myself in the bathroom.
When we pulled up to the nondescript building earlier, I noticed that it looks more like a very large shop of some kind. People who drive by it may think it’s used for a carpentry business or small warehouse. When I stepped inside and saw that it was fully furnished and looked like a home I was happily surprised since I’d assumed walking to the front door, I’d be sleeping in a cold, drafty room. Even that, I would’ve been grateful for considering I’m now homeless.
The way Diego paid for the room, how he had clothes for me this morning, and now these clothes, I’m certain he will once again offer to pay for my things tomorrow. But at what cost? What will he expect from me? I have nothing to offer him, and I was very insistent last night that he shouldn’t expect sexual favors in exchange. Not that I’d do that anyway.
The bag holds a couple pairs of jeans, t-shirts, underwear, and a bra that surprisingly is my size. I look at the still intact price tags. They’re not designer, but they’re not Target brand either. As I remove the tags from the clothes, I write down their prices on a piece of paper I had stuffed in my purse. I add the cost of the hotel room from last night as well.