Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 156796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 784(@200wpm)___ 627(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 784(@200wpm)___ 627(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
I smiled at the same time my stomach dipped at yet another sassy but kind woman demanding I tell her about something I’d yet to reconcile in my own head. It should’ve scared me, made me close down tighter than ever. But it didn’t. It was like I’d been crying out for this kind of contact and I hadn’t even realized it.
Which was why, for the second time in twenty-four hours, I spilled the entire story—so far—about Gage.
I expected more yelling from Lucy. Or at the very least a string of curse words. She cursed more than even the bikers I’d come across, but that was probably because she grew up around them.
But there was nothing except a slight crackle in the silence on the other end of the line.
“Lucy?” I asked after a couple of beats.
“No one has ever struck me speechless, but you have just done so,” she said finally. “And I’m feeling like this isn’t going to be the last time you’re going to be popping some cherries. Not that Gage is a virgin.” She paused. “Wait, you’re not—”
“No, I’m not a virgin. I’m not that tragic a case,” I said, my voice a little lower.
“Honey, never in my life have I thought of you as being tragic,” she said softly. “Just because you live life quiet and without caffeinated beverages does not mean your life is not important. That I don’t admire it. Admire You. Always have, babe. Especially after what happened to David.”
My blood froze. “You know what happened to David?” I choked out. I hadn’t realized that Lucy even recognized me from high school, what with being years below her and the fact that I almost sank into the wallpaper. She and Rosie were too busy blowing things up to notice the wallpaper. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because, babe, I knew you didn’t want to talk about it. You weren’t ready for that. As someone who knows what it’s like to hide from the past, and yourself, I know it’s a choice you make on your own about when to confront that pain. I just hoped I’d be around to help you through it if you chose to trust me with that.”
I blinked away tears that were unfamiliar to me.
“But I’m always here. Even if I’m technically in LA on damn near house arrest. You’d think a woman has never been pregnant before,” she grumbled, as if sensing that I wasn’t ready to say anything more about David.
“Well, how does a distraction sound?” I asked, taking considerable effort to brighten my voice.
“Dude, you already blew my fucking mind with the news that you’re going to be the one who breaks in the wild horse that is Gage. Oh, and the crazy one. Not that I’m judging. He’s hot as shit. The crazy ones always are. And I know that because Keltan is not entirely sane. I mean, he plays rugby. And he’s married to me. He’s got to be a little unhinged.”
Looking out at the ocean, I smiled, and it was genuine. It was hard to believe David’s name had been spoken in such close proximity to that smile.
“I think he’s pretty darn smart, and I think you’re pretty darn awesome, even if you’re a little crazy,” I said. “And I’m going to need some of that crazy for some journalistic advice.”
I filled her in on what I wanted to do, and when I was finished there was more crackling silence on the other side of the phone.
“You’ve done it,” she breathed after a long silence. “You’ve done the impossible, struck me silent for the second time in a handful of minutes. There must be some kind of trophy for that.” She sucked in a breath. “And I’m not going to point out the obvious and talk about the dangers involved in trying to take down drug dealers, because that’s just cliché and dull. And it’s you, so of course you’ll be careful. I’ll just give you some pointers.”
And she did.
Detailed pointers.
She also tried to convince me to get a gun. I had made all the appropriate noncommittal noises, but no way in hell was I getting a gun. I’d more likely shoot myself by accident before I shot anyone else.
Not that I had the stomach for shooting anyone.
The only shooting I was doing with my phone, safely in my car, prepared to start it and roar off into the night if anyone caught me.
Or I thought I’d been prepared.
Right up until my door was wrenched open, strong and firm hands gripping my upper arms.
I didn’t even have the self-preservation to scream while I was dragged out of the car. Not that anyone would save me if I did. Not in that area. Not that I would want any of the characters who hung out there to save me.