Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 42959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 215(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 215(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
She noticed he did this the last time as well. It was sweet.
They passed his clubhouse. She heard the music all the way on the street. As she glanced toward him, he didn’t even look at the building.
“You’re sure you don’t want to go and party?” she asked.
“Unless you want a drink, I’m good.”
“I don’t drink alcohol.”
“Never?”
“Never,” she said.
“Why?”
“I have issues.”
“Right.”
She rubbed her hands down her thighs, not wanting to spill the details of her past. No one needed a reminder, and she certainly didn’t want to go down memory lane. Hopefully, he wouldn’t assume she was a recovering alcoholic or something.
“So, is what people say true?” she asked.
“About what?”
“Do you sacrifice virgins to the devil? Torture men for hours until they can’t remember their own names? Bribe good, innocent town folk to put up with you?”
He chuckled. “Are those the rumors that are going around?”
“Some of them. Not all. Kind of cool though, right?”
She had no idea if she was breaking some kind of code or rules. Straight to Hell MC had a serious reputation. They were supposed to be scary, dangerous, and the kind of guys you avoided at all costs.
This was her second interaction with them, or at least one of them. So far, he’d been the perfect gentleman. A little rude, but she didn’t mind that. It made him more human to her.
“Believe what you want to believe.”
“That’s easy for me then. I don’t believe in any of it.”
“You don’t?”
“Nope.”
“Are you an idiot?” he asked.
She laughed. “Wow, stupid and an idiot. I don’t know what to say.” She winked at him. “I don’t believe in judging people based on the potential lies of others. I’ll make my assessment of you, not of your club. To do that, I’d have to meet every single person in the club to determine if it is a good club or a bad one.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re strange?”
“I’ve been called a lot of insults over the years, and I don’t let any of them affect me. What about you?”
“I’m part of a biker club. You figure it out.”
They had already passed the clubhouse, but Tank’s name was called.
Bell stopped and looked to see a beautiful woman dressed in a yellow bikini. One of her breasts had fallen out, and she looked like she had been in some kind of fight. Black makeup was smudged beneath her eyes.
“Come and play with me.”
Tank looked the woman up and down, turned his back on her, and kept on walking.
Bell’s heart went out to the woman, but she wasn’t going to get involved. Especially as another biker wrapped his arm around the woman and started moving her back into the clubhouse. The woman in question merely laughed as if it was all just a game.
“Was she your girlfriend?” Bell asked.
“I don’t have girlfriends.”
Chapter Two
“Is this really necessary?” Tank asked.
The doctor flipped through his file on Tank. It was getting thick. He was surprised he was still alive at this point in his life.
“Lord insists I follow up on all major surgeries.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” Tank said. “I’m here, ain’t I?”
“It was a serious gunshot wound,” he said. “You hit vital organs.”
He’d been shot in the stomach during their last encounter with the Skull Nation MC. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t do to protect his club. It was a small price to pay. He’d done most of what the doctor had ordered since his surgery and felt fine, ready to move on with his life. This wasn’t his first gunshot wound and probably wouldn’t be the last.
Tank humored the doctor and let him do his exam. If he refused, he’d have Lord up his ass. He preferred not to piss off his prez.
They were doing a run tonight, and it could get ugly. But, instead of worrying about the details, he was focused on that little blonde with the killer ass. She was sweet and innocent—the last thing he needed in his life. Yet he was drawn to her, excited with the prospect of seeing her the next time. She made him laugh, made him feel like he wasn’t an abomination.
But the last thing he needed was a woman. Tank loved sex, but that was all it ever was. He didn’t commit. Most people were afraid of him, many in his own club. It wasn’t just the fact he was six feet, eight inches of power and muscle, earning him his road name, but he had a reputation that was all based in truth. If the club needed him to kill, he didn’t think twice—no matter who it was. He never let emotions get in the way.
Bell brought out something in him he couldn’t explain. Maybe because he could be himself around her or that she was a civilian and he had nothing to prove to her. Or maybe he was getting weak in his old age, falling for the first pretty smile. There were no happily-ever-afters for men like him, so he was a fucking idiot for even entertaining the idea.