Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
A grumpy squeak is my response, so with a bit of resignation, I lift my shirt. At least it should even out the pressure a little.
We're both just starting to doze off when the doorbell rings.
7
ALESSA
Who the heck is at my door?
Hardly anyone knows that I live here. Bea obviously has her own key, and I just hung up on Dad, so it's not him. Probably someone selling something. With Izzy draped over me, I'm not getting up for that.
The doorbell rings again.
With a sigh, I grab a receiving blanket with pink hearts and teddy bears dancing around them and toss it over my gluttonous little girl. It gives both her and my boob some privacy, and then I get up with her still on my arm. God, she's getting big. I'm not going to be able to just lug her around one-armed like this for much longer.
I peek out the curtain to see who’s being so insistent, and realize this is going to be a little more complicated than door to door sales.
Four big guys in denim and leather that I never in the world would expect at my door, stand there looking around and talking to each other like being here is totally normal. A big ball of heat rushes right down to my core and balls up there, catching me totally off guard.
So the good news is that the guys survived their ride home from the truce meeting. I bet there's a story there, but it takes a load off my chest. I worried.
The bad news? I've got a baby on my arm that's right in the middle of making a meal out of me and they just spotted me through the window.
“Alessa!” Viking grins through his braided beard. Then the grin drops along with his gaze as he finds the lump on my arm. Sure, Izzy's covered up, but there's no hiding what's going on here. “Alessa?”
Bikers. In Granary Wharf, an upscale, gentrified neighborhood full of executives and young urban couples right on the river. We moved here specifically because it was safe and I wouldn’t run into anyone we knew. Last year we lived in an apartment on campus, but keeping Izzy secret would be impossible.
As if four huge, tattooed guys with MC gang patches standing at my door isn't conspicuous enough, they've parked their bikes on the street, and no one's going to walk by those and think it belongs to the lawyer downstairs, or the family on the other side. There are already people staring.
“Put your fucking phone away, lady. We’re just visiting,” snaps Hawk at the closest bystander, a mother pushing a baby carriage who I’ve chatted with a few times at the community sandbox. She hustles faster than anyone I’ve ever seen.
I angle myself away enough to wrestle Izzy off my nipple and shove myself back into my nursing bra, but it’s still pretty obvious what’s going on. I crack open the door, brain in full panic mode. “What are you guys doing here?” They're here and they've seen the baby. They've figured out where I live. My biggest dream and greatest fear just collided in the doorway to my apartment. “You guys can't be here.”
“Of course we're fucking here. You saved our lives,” says Snark. He's staring wide-eyed at where my shirt is still pulled up, revealing my bra, and for once his little crooked grin is nowhere to be seen. “We thought you deserved a Screaming Eagles screaming thank you.”
“Though,” Bear adds, peering over their shoulders, “are we interrupting nap time?”
“Jesus Christ.” I step aside to let them pass. “Get in, before more people see you. You guys stick out like sore thumbs.”
All of a sudden, our good-sized apartment feels tiny. The guys fill it up, sized from huge to huger. Our couch creaks as Bear lowers himself into it. Snark perches on a stool by the counter that separates the kitchen from our living room. Viking doesn't sit, just crosses his powerful arms over his chest, leans his back against the wall and looks at me suspiciously. Hawk locks the door behind him, very deliberately, then moves slowly around the apartment, studying it with a stony expression like there'll be a quiz afterwards.
“How did you guys find me? The only person other than my roommate who knows I’m here is Dad, and I can guarantee he's not the one who gave you the address.”
“We have our ways,” says Snark and spins a little on the swiveling seat. He looks like the cat who swallowed the canary and doesn’t even have the grace to feel bad about it. “It was a challenge, I'll admit, but with a little internet knowhow and a bunch of years of experience of finding your way into places you're not supposed to be, very little is impossible.” He looks at the bundle nuzzling at my breast. “But I guess I didn't find out everything. Who's that?”