Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 111416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
The only problem she’d have with Fletch—if they ever went on an official date together—would be how to sit in a restaurant so neither had their back to the entrance. The night they ate in a diner, they had found a booth where both could keep their eyes on the door. Unfortunately, that wasn’t always possible.
As soon as Fletch shut off the loud bike and heeled down the kickstand, she dismounted but he remained straddling the Harley. He yanked the bandana used to cover his mouth and nose down to his neck. “You going to text the maintenance guy?”
“I wanted to see the damage first, but I guess I can do it now so we’re not stuck here waiting too long.” She quickly sent a text while she waited for him to swing a leg over the bike. After pressing Send, she glanced up to notice he hadn’t moved. “You coming?”
“In a few. I have to make a quick call to the gun shop so Dawg knows I won’t be his bitch today. And I want to do a quick check-in with Crew to let them know where we are and why. What’s your condo number?”
She rolled her lips inward when she pointed at the large number painted in bright white on the pavement in the spot where they parked.
Fletch snorted. “Message received. See you up there.”
“No rush. I have a feeling we’ll be here a while.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
As she climbed the stairs to her second floor condo, she made a mental list of personal items she wanted to bring back with her to Shadow Valley. Stuff they could haul on the bike, at least. Since the investigation was going so slowly, she had a feeling she and Fletch would remain as Ghost and Kitten for a while yet.
Not such a hardship since she was actually getting used to living and working with Fletch. Not to mention, sleeping beside him.
They made a good team and she was worried the strong bond they had might break once the assignment was over and they no longer worked so closely together.
So, yes, right now she was okay with the investigation going at a snail’s pace. The longer it went, the longer they could avoid a possibly awkward discussion about what should or would happen between them afterward.
The longer they played Ghost and Kitten, it might be easier to determine if Fletch and Nova had a chance at developing their personal relationship into more than lovers.
Look at her, actually considering getting involved in a long-term relationship. A real one this time.
Not with Frank Russo, Mafia don. Not with Ghost, the biker. But with Shane Fletcher, PA state trooper.
She shook her head and huffed out a breath as she stepped out of the stairwell into the second floor hallway.
Her phone dinged in her hand and she paused to read the text from the maintenance man. Be there in about 15. Currently inspecting another condo.
That was a fucking relief. Now they wouldn’t be waiting around half a day while twiddling their damn thumbs.
When she reached her door, she dug out her key from the front pocket of her jeans, but as she soon as she tried to plug it into the deadbolt, it tumbled from her fingers and fell to the floor.
With a muttered, “Fuck,” she bent over to retrieve it and wrinkled her nose when she noticed the condition of the hallway carpet. She never paid attention to how filthy it was until she had to touch it. Making a mental note to mention the condition to the maintenance guy when he arrived, she straightened, plugged the key into the lock and turned it.
Before she could open the door more than a crack, she was hit from behind with a force so great, she body-slammed the door, expelling all the air from her lungs.
As the door banged open, she fell forward and tried to lessen the impact by twisting her body to keep from face-planting.
She failed and hit the floor hard, anyway.
What the fuck!
If Fletch thought this was funny…
Before she could rise enough to figure out what the hell was going on, two men—not in maintenance uniforms—were on her. One grabbed her arm, to keep from being punched, and a handful of her hair to keep her down on the floor. The other tackled her legs as she tried to kick free.
She growled as they both drug her farther into the condo and slammed the door shut.
Fuck!
Her stomach churned, her heart slammed in her chest and her mind spun as she tried to figure out who these fuckers were. She didn’t know them. She’d never seen them before. They didn’t look like bikers, so she doubted they were Demons and the possibility that this was a random home invasion was even slimmer.
But deep down she knew.
She. Fucking. Knew.