Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 60576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
The spinning won’t stop.
“What did you give me?” I murmur, swaying slightly.
“Can’t have you in this town, Kitten. Time for you to go.”
After that, my world goes black.
3
Slowly coming around, it takes me a minute to realize that I’m in the back of a truck bouncing along the road. Blinking my eyes, my head spins as I try to focus, try to figure out what is going on. My mind is a hazy mess as I piece together my last movements, wondering how the hell I ended up in a truck. Little by little, my memories return, and I jerk upright, groaning when my stomach twists violently.
There is a man driving the truck, and I can’t see a great deal of his face, but I can see the bold leather jacket he’s wearing that tells me he’s a member of the club. That god damned asshole. He drugged me. Shame and anger mix in my chest, and my cheeks heat at the memory of his lips on mine. Here I was enjoying myself, when all along he was just figuring out how he could get rid of me.
“What the hell is going on?” I try to bark, but it comes out as a croaky moan.
Curling my fingers around the chair, I try to stop myself from falling back down. The man driving glances at me in the rearview mirror, and I’m taken back by his unique eyes. He has one stark blue eye and one that is more a hazel color. It is absolutely breathtaking, and something I have never seen on a person before. I’m so taken aback, I forget what I was going to say.
“I’m gettin’ you out of town, considerin’ you didn’t take the warning given to you.”
His voice is scratchy and incredibly hot, and I can’t help but shift down the chair a little so I can get a look at his face. He’s gorgeous, and I’m beginning to wonder where these bikers come from. Maybe I’m hallucinating, it would make more sense. This man has messy dark blond hair, a ring in his lower lip and tattoos snaking up his neck. He’s dangerous to look at, but in the most attractive way.
“First of all,” I answer him, my voice a little less croaky. “I don’t take orders from some biker that I don’t even know, and second of all, I will just make my way back to town because I’m not giving up on my plan, which is to find answers.”
“He’s tryin’ to help you. If you valued your life, you’d take that help.”
“I haven’t done anything to warrant me being scared for my life,” I mutter. “Now pull this truck over, because I’m getting out.”
“No, you ain’t.”
The audacity.
“What’s your name?” I snap.
“Steel.”
I grunt. “Steel, seriously? There is no way that’s your real name. What is your real name?”
“Talon.”
A man of many words. “Okay, Talon Steel, I’m going to be nice about this, but I won’t be for long. I am going to get out of this truck.”
He is unbothered by my threat. “Try it.”
I grit my teeth, glancing out the window at the road whizzing beside me. There is no way I’m going to be able to get out of this truck when it is moving at this speed.
“It doesn’t matter how far you drive me, I will come back,” I yell, frustrated. “Now pull over.”
“No.”
I throw my hands up. “Fucking bikers. Tell your boss that he will regret this.”
“President, and he won’t regret shit.”
“Fuck you, Talon.”
“Steel.”
“Whatever!”
The truck goes silent, and I sit back in the chair, arms crossed over my chest. It takes me a moment to come up with a plan, but I quickly do. There are a few items in the back of this truck, such as a toolbox, some towing rope, and a few old shirts. My eyes zone in on the towing rope, and I feel bad about what I’m going to do, but I have no choice. I’m not letting Rook, Wolfe, whatever the hell his name is, drive me out of town.
Reaching down very quietly, I pull the rope into my hand. I form a loop and then, without warning, I move. I fling the rope over the back seat and around Talon’s neck, then I pull back with all my might. The truck swerves as he slams on his brakes, and I brace for impact, but he manages to stop it without crashing. Then, he fights.
Oh, does he fight.
His fingers curl around the rope, trying to pull it off his neck, but I’m not giving up without a fight. I lean back harder, putting my foot into the back of the chair so I can get more leverage, and then I hang on for dear life as he curses and fights. Minutes pass, and he even tries to reach over to the passenger side of the truck but is unable to because the rope is so tight.