Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
She shrugs and turns her attention to Sledge, putting her arm around Lace’s waist. “What about you? Just wanna watch, maybe?” Lace tilts her head to the side so Indie can kiss the side of her neck.
He doesn’t look any more tempted than I am, but I know the fucker well enough to see when he’s struggling to figure out what the fuck to say. A lot of people think Sledge is hot headed, that he lashes out without thinking, but that’s not it. He’s too strong and stubborn to do anything he doesn’t want to do, but sometimes he can’t figure out how to get his point across before he ends up punching someone, or in the case of women, pissing them off.
“We’ve got shit to talk about, ladies. Another night, okay?”
“Fine,” Lace says with a sigh. They wander over to the bar to talk to Jewel, but not before I hear her mutter, “Another one bites the dust.”
The tension drops from Sledge’s shoulders. It used to just be Havoc keeping him out of trouble, but somewhere along the way I took on that duty as well. I line up my shot and break, sending the balls flying with a loud crack. Nothing drops. One of those days.
He rounds the side and aims. “They fucked last night.” His shot goes wide.
“No shit.” I’d’ve been more surprised if they didn’t. I bet it was a hell of a lot easier for Havoc to think of himself as her brother when she wasn’t right there where he could see and touch her. Having her in his bed? Yeah, we all knew where that was going, even if they maybe didn’t.
“I want in.” His voice is low and deadly fucking serious. “I fucking like her, Phoenix. Her and Mia both. We were talking today… Mia’s going to stay at Alessa’s again tonight.”
The pool cue creaks in my hands. I force myself to relax my grip and take my shot. It bounces once and goes in. “Have fun.”
Sledge snorts. “You’re such a dumbass sometimes.”
“What the hell?”
He leans in close and squeezes my elbow. “She’s fucking curious, man. About us. All of us.”
Those words are all it takes to produce the reaction Lace and Indie failed at. If Shelby knew about my past, she’d probably hate me. I fucking hate myself half the time. Some of the shit I did… fuck.
In the Pit Vipers, I was fucked up out of my head half the time. I don’t remember Shelby there, but given Mia’s age, and knowing she’s Dodger’s, we probably crossed paths at least a few times. I was just too busy trying to ignore what my gut was telling me.
That if I wanted anything better than dying in that shithole club, I needed to get the fuck out.
But there’s a memory itching the back of my head in a way I don’t like. I remember Dodger and some of his buddies dragging a few of us along to send a message to someone he said had messed with the club. We were so fucking drunk it’s a wonder we didn’t all end up in a ditch somewhere. The reason it stands out is because it was one of the last things I did with the Pit Vipers. We broke into the house expecting a fight and it was just Dodger going fucking nuts on some random ass couple.
Fuck, when Crow took over the Vipers from his father, things were bad. We all did bad shit, and I stopped thinking about it because I knew I wouldn’t make it if I did. After that night, I finally let Razor pull some strings and help me get outta there and into the Screaming Eagles. I owe that guy my fucking life, and Eagle-eye for giving me a chance.
But are they even related or am I just feeling guilty because deep down I know I don’t deserve her? I sure as hell never terrorized a fucking baby. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea.” I try to be fucking responsible, but then I can’t help adding, “Just a taste?”
“Whatever she wants, brother.”
I slam back what’s left of my beer. Maybe I’m still making bad decisions but sweet little Shelby’s under my fucking skin, that much is obvious. She’s like a fucking drug. “Alright, I’m in.”
24
SHELBY
I get a few looks when I walk into the clubhouse, which makes sense because me in jeans, a t-shirt and tennis shoes kinda stands out when all the other women look like they’re going clubbing. I nearly walk right back out the door, but what stops me is the sight of a head of salt and pepper hair over the top of a reclining chair with a smaller, bald little baby head resting on his shoulder, fast asleep. A dark haired woman dressed not too differently from me is curled up on the couch nearby sleeping. A football game is playing on the TV, and an assortment of other rough looking bikers is scattered around watching. Under the table, a dog is curled up, tail gently thumping against the floor.