Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Jax laughs. “I’ll be sure to tell her.
I grab my coat and start for the door when someone bursts in. Ned, red-faced with fury, starts yelling the second he enters.
“I told you, Jaxson Bell, that you needed to get your head out of your ass and do something about the crime in this damn town!” Ned sneers at Jax. “But your head was too far up your lover’s ass to notice, and now my bank has a queer logo on it!”
A snort escapes me. “Pardon? Did you call it a queer logo?”
The old man swivels around, pointing his rage at me. But, unlike Jax, I’m not about to back down from this piece of shit. I lift a brow in question.
“You heard me,” he snarls.
“It’s a rainbow, man. Last I checked, it’s a gift from Mother Nature, not something trademarked by the LGBTQ community.”
“This is an outrage, and it ends now,” Ned spits out, holding my stare for a second longer before turning back on Jax since he’s easier prey. “You’re not fit to be sheriff or president of the Chamber of Commerce!”
“Careful, Mr. Townsend.” I boom over Jax’s placating voice that’s attempting to calm Ned. “It almost sounds like you have the same homophobic stance as that of your convict son.”
“You leave my son out of this, Larson!”
Jax glowers at me, but I’m not about to let this asshole talk shit to the sheriff.
“I’ve processed the scene and am following up on clues. We’ll call you if we find anything of relevance,” I say in a cold tone. “Run along, Townsend, before you say something that lands you in a shit ton of trouble. I wouldn’t want to have to arrest you for verbally assaulting the sheriff.”
“You can’t do that!”
I’m fibbing a bit because my cuffs are at home wrapped around a gorgeous boy’s wrist, but I’ll improvise if I have to.
I take a step toward Ned. “Don’t make me escort you out of the building.”
He glares at me while I give him an apathetic expression. Finally, he gets infuriated enough and storms out of the station.
“Was that really necessary?” Jax asks, sounding far too tired for being the one who didn’t just work a twelve-hour overnight shift.
“Absolutely.” I tip my head at him. “See you around, Sheriff. My bed is calling me.”
More importantly…who’s in it.
Callan
Ow.
My head throbs, and my arm aches. What the hell? I squint against the sunlight streaming in the window, trying to make sense of what’s going on around me.
Masculine scent.
Gray bedding.
Unfamiliar
Not my room.
Fuck.
I go to sit up but am immediately met with resistance. Did he seriously cuff me to the damn bed? Unbelievable. Last night is coming back to me in fragments and shards of regret.
I got caught.
Dante and Shelly are going to lose it.
But maybe they won’t have to know. I mean, Atlas clearly cuffed me to his bed rather than shoving me in the lone cell at the station. That has to count for something. Maybe he’ll come home, tell me not to do it again, and then let me go along my merry little way.
My gut twists.
Atlas is a lot of things, but he’s not necessarily the type to let things go.
He seems like the kind of guy who enjoys a little punishment. Kind of like when he punished my nipples for no good reason.
I’m screwed.
Then why’s your dick hard, dumbass?
I twist my wrist inside the cuffed metal to see if I can wriggle loose. He didn’t put it so tight it hurts, but he didn’t leave me any room to escape either. I’m at his mercy until he comes home and lets me out.
When will he come home?
I try to ascertain what time it is by where the sun is lying, but I’m not Zak. I don’t go camping and shit. I was born in New York City, not Bum Fucking Nowhere. Knowing the time of day based on where the sun is shining hasn’t ever been important or necessary.
I wait for what feels like thirty minutes or maybe an hour. As the need to piss grows more intense, I start to get angry. Who is this guy? Who the hell does that? He should have just arrested me. At least then, Jax would let me out by the time he arrived for his shift. I wouldn’t be sitting here, forced to inhale Atlas’s scent, all alone in his bed.
Fuck, I need to piss.
“Atlas!” I bellow, knowing damn well he’s not here.
It feels good to yell, though.
“Unlock these cuffs, you sadistic prick!”
Still no answer.
I’m going to kill him. When he gets here, I’m going to wring his neck for fucking kidnapping me. That’s against the law. You can’t just capture some kid and handcuff him to your bed. That’s the definition of insanity. Atlas Larson is insane. Jax better find a new cop because this one has lost his marbles.