Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“I have to go to the bank, then get there and pay him. If I want to keep the boxes there, I need to pay six months in advance.”
“I’ll pay with my credit card, and you bring your boxes here. Put them in the barn. You should have said something. We could have gone anytime and gotten them.”
“I forgot,” she admitted. “I was thinking of a recipe and remembered it was in a cookbook of my mom’s and realized that it was in the storage place and I hadn’t paid since I’ve been here. I called to make arrangements and the man told me the locker would be repossessed if I didn’t pay.”
I pulled her into my arms and stroked her back. “Okay. It’s okay. I’ll pay it, and you’ll get your stuff. You won’t lose anything, Red. I promise.”
Three hours later, I was dealing with the manager of the storage place. He was short and stout, with a bad comb-over, and reminded me of Danny DeVito. He was lecturing Charly until I walked in to see what was taking so long. His eyes widened as I slipped my arm around her waist.
“Problem?”
“The credit card isn’t in her name,” he informed me.
“No, it’s mine. I was on the phone outside.”
“I told you that,” Charly huffed. “And I already apologized. I sent you a change of address and my phone number. You never called.”
“I never got it.”
I interrupted him. “Just put the charge through—” I glanced at his name tag “—Arnie, and give her the new key. We’ll unload the locker and be out of here.” I tapped on the counter. “Now.”
He slid a key toward Charly. I kissed her forehead. “Go open the locker. I’ll bring the cart. Don’t lift anything.”
She left, and I glared at the manager. “You could be a little more polite.”
“Listen, you know how often I get stiffed? She’s lucky I gave her a couple extra weeks.” Arnie grumbled, fumbling with the credit card machine. “Damn lines are down. I gotta try again.”
It took over ten minutes, and I finally went around the counter to help him. He had pulled the cable loose with all his fussing. He bitched about dealing with problem customers and payments all day. He finally put the payment through, and I went to the truck to get the handcart. I had just pulled it off the truck when Charly came tearing out of the building, her hair streaming behind her and her face pale. I dropped the cart at the look of utter panic on her face.
“What?” I grabbed her arms. “Red, what happened?” If that bastard had touched her, I was going to kill him.
“Maxx,” she gasped. “It’s-it’s here.”
“What’s here, Charly?”
“Your bike.”
I frowned in confusion. “My bike?”
“Your Indian motorcycle. I think I just saw it.”
I strode down the hall, my heart beating a hundred miles an hour, anger burning in my gut. Charly explained that as she went toward her locker, there was a couple arguing loudly in the aisle next to hers. She heard them talking about moving the contents of the locker somewhere else since they were out of money and couldn’t pay the rent anymore.
“It’s time to sell it,” the woman hissed. “It’s worth a ton of cash.”
“It’s too soon.”
“No, we’ll sell it out of province. Indian motorcycles are huge in the States.”
At the mention of an Indian, Charly had headed toward the aisle and strolled down it as if looking for her locker. She glanced toward the open door and saw my bike, recognizing the color and custom-made saddlebags and seat, then kept walking so as not to cause suspicion. She described the couple, leaving me no doubt it was Shannon and Billy.
Outside Unit 2221, I looked at Charly, who nodded in assurance. The door was partially closed, and I could hear them arguing about how to get the bike out and where to store it. At the sound of their voices, I knew Red was right. It was them. I shoved open the door and stepped inside.
“Back in my garage is the best place,” I snarled.
Two shocked sets of eyes looked at me. Two mouths gaped open.
Then all hell broke loose. Shannon started shrieking it was all Billy’s idea and she was just biding her time until she could get the bike back to me. Billy protested loudly it was Shannon who came up with the idea. Shannon shoved Billy, who stumbled backward, and then she lunged at me, trying to get past. I gripped her arms, shaking my head.
“I don’t think so, bitch.”
Charly spoke. “I’ll call the police now, Maxx?”
“Yeah, baby, do that.”
Shannon’s eyes grew round. “Baby? You’re cheating on me?”
I barked out a laugh. “You fucked my best friend, robbed me, and took off with my bike, and you thought, what? I’d forgive and be waiting for you after all this time? After everything you did? Holy moly, are you barking mad?”