Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 60234 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60234 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
“That’s a story,” Wild Man says, stepping on the other side of me.
I walk between my brothers, knowing they’re here because they’re scared as fuck that I’m losing my shit. They’re here because they give a fuck about me. “I just wanted to fucking think and try to look at some stars. That dumb motherfucker interrupted me.”
“You get your shit sorted out?”
“Yes. No. Maybe?”
Ace’s lips twitch into a reluctant grin, and he shakes his head as we get to the parking lot. “Better to do it at home than out here in the fucking wild. Beverly fucking Hills? Seriously?”
I snort-laugh. “It’s where I ended up when I realized I was too fucked up to ride.”
“At least you figured it out before the troopers had to peel you off the highway.”
“A-fucking-men to that,” Wild Man groans. He and Ace share another look, the same look as earlier, like they’re having a secret conversation without me.
“What the fuck is that about?” I point to both of them. “Tell me. Now.”
“Come on, let’s get back to the clubhouse. You okay to ride?”
“Yeah, man. I’m good.”
We ride into the parking lot of the clubhouse, and it really feels good to be home. I even feel bad for that fucking Wizard or Wrexxing or whoever the fuck he was.
“Okay, we’re back. Now tell me everything.”
Ace pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “We got the info on Willow’s whereabouts from Maggie.”
“What?”
Ace holds up his hands. “Don’t freak the fuck out. Before we met up earlier to plan to rescue Willow, Gia came to me with a notebook.”
I shake my head because I fucking knew there was something weird about it all. That fucking notebook Maggie has been writing in nonstop was full of details to help us get back at the Bloodthirsty Devils. “So she gave you everything we needed to rescue Willow. Did you help her get out of Angel Harbor?”
Ace and Wild Man look at each other with matching wary expressions.
“What the fuck?”
“She dropped off the notebook, and then she booked it the fuck out of here before anyone could stop her.”
“Bullshit.” I shake my head in disbelief because it doesn’t make sense. “She left without any cash to get her safely the fuck out of here? I don’t believe it.”
Ace gets in my face. “Have I ever lied to you?”
“Other than withholding info about Maggie? No.”
“Fair enough,” he growls and pushes open the clubhouse door. “She’s got a fucking mind of her own, and she left before we made things square between her and the MC.”
I don’t hear another word Ace says because I’m charging across the clubhouse and down the hall to the rooms, specifically to the room where Maggie’s been staying. Even though I know she’s gone, my shoulders fall at the sight of the room, empty except for the silky black scarf and the black bandana lying in the middle of the bed I shared with her plenty of times.
“Fucking Maggie,” I growl.
She’s gone.
She left. Again.
“Goddammit!” She’s gone, and as pissed off as I am—again—I get it.
She deserves the future she wants without me.
That doesn’t stop me from plopping down on the bed that still smells like both of us, but mostly Maggie. The scent of her, of us, invades my nostrils and seeps into the deepest recesses of my mind. I lay there, wondering where she is and what she’s doing.
After a few hours, I fall asleep with images of Maggie invading my dreams. Her smart mouth. Her teasing smile makes it seem like she has an inside joke no one else knows about.
She’s tough as shit, but just underneath is a layer of vulnerability that I find irresistible. Hell, the truth is that I find every fucking thing about her irresistible.
I tell myself that I’ll stop caring about her in time. I’ll stop thinking about her.
I’ll stop wondering what my life could have been if she’d stayed and made a life here with me in Angel Harbor.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Maggie
I grunt and groan in pain as I try to turn to my side, opening my eyes without a direct view of the sun. I try to sit up once, but I can’t.
“Shit.” My legs feel trapped beneath something, and I wiggle them loose as boxes and trash bags slowly slide off of me.
I’m in a fucking dumpster. A filthy fucking dumpster.
My legs are sticky and wet from the trash. My head and back have something sticky. Fucking gross. After a few minutes of straining and holding my breath, I manage to grab the edge of the dumpster and pull myself up and over the side, landing on the concrete below with a solid thud. “Ouch.”
I lie there a minute, letting the hot concrete sear into my back to get my bearings and to make sure Simone and the other bitches are long gone. It seems the coast is clear, and I get to my feet, looking around the alley that looks a hell of a lot less menacing in the morning light.