Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
We all laugh at the look on her face. It’s somewhere between dreamy and cross-eyed as if she can’t decide whether or not she would want that from Hammer tonight.
Morgan shrugs. “Anyway, I figured we can watch this, then plot some shit you can pull off in front of Scotty so he won’t think you’re as attractive as he thought you were or something like that.”
Des points at Morgan. “Are we doing our own version of Mission Impossible?”
Morgan gives Des a huge grin back. “Mission Lose the Loser?”
I giggle at my friends being silly and thank the powers that be that I was lucky enough to find them.
“I know, I know!” Des shouts, “Mission Stop Scott!”
Morgan and I both shake our heads at that one. Then I hold my hand out in Morgan’s direction, and she looks at me quizzically.
“Give me the wine, girl. I need to be halfway to toasted for the next idea she gets.”
An hour later, that’s exactly where I am. I am blitzed. Hell, I just might be drunk. I don’t drink a lot, and this batch of wine is hitting me harder than my home-brewed stuff. That’s probably why I find myself blurting out, “I think somebody’s watching me,” during the movie for no good reason at all.
Morgan and Des, who are also a little drunk, both look at me.
“Seriously?” Des asks. “Or, are you, like, about to sing that song?”
“What song?” I ask her in confusion.
She waves her hand in the air. “You know. That song. The one that gets stuck in your head.”
“What song?” I ask her again.
Des throws both hands over her eyes, yet moves her fingers so she’s peeking at us through her hands, and starts a head bob. “I always feel like …” she sings horribly off tune.
Dammit. Now that song is going to be stuck in my head.
“No, I really feel like I’m being followed and watched. It doesn’t make sense," I admit and even though I didn’t plan on telling anyone I find relief in doing so.
“It’s probably your imagination. Your chi, isn’t that what you call it, is out of whack.” Morgan slurs.
“Oh my goodness, Morgan,” I laugh at her. My friends accept my lifestyle even if they don’t understand it.
“I think we should tell Hammer.” Des decides firmly.
“No, it’s my problem.”
“We’re part of a motorcycle club life, you’re our friend, you’re family. We tell Hammer and Ice, they’ll find out if there is a threat, Paisley.” Des explains like this is the most natural thing in the world.
When my doorbell rings, I jump, only to exhale and center myself when I realize it’s only Hammer and Ice here to pick up their women. With hugs good-bye, my friends leave.
I can’t help wondering what it would feel like to have a man who protected me and looked out for me the way those two do.
After pulling the chain on my door, I literally shake my body, trying to shake off the feeling someone’s outside.
“Snap out of it, Paisley,” I tell myself before letting the alcohol relax me until I fall into a deep sleep. A dark, deep sleep where I have a dark-bearded bald man promise me safety, security, and love.
Will my life every go back to normal since bumping into Trevor “Coal” Blake? I have the feeling it’s not.
Chapter Ten
~Coal~
“Brother, get this, I think that creep from the gym is watching Paisley,” Hammer says while we sit in the office of Alibi, going over the alcohol order and supply list.
It’s late. Normal people would be home, but the order has to get put in and it’s our rotation.
“Why do you think that?”
“Des told me that Paisley keeps getting that feeling that somebody’s watching her. Not all the time, but at different times. When she goes to the gym, her job—shit like that.”
Feeling anger surge through me, I blurt out, “I will nail that motherfucker’s balls to the wall.”
Hammer snorts. “Feeling like doing some medieval torture style shit, huh? She must be gettin’ to you, man.”
“Swear to God, brother, you start some matchmaking type shit and I will tell the whole club you’re now wearing Des’s pink panties. Don’t fuck with me about this.”
He laughs as he flips the inventory page and starts going over the next list. “You’re mighty fuckin’ touchy for a man who doesn’t give a shit, then.”
I shrug. “Didn’t say I don’t give a shit. What I’m sayin’ is keep your nose out of it.”
Even I don’t know why I care about Pixie. I’m not going to deny it. I’m just not sure what I’m going to do about it, either.
We have enough going on in the club that I haven’t had time to sort things out with Pixie. Even though every spare moment has been helping Lisa with medical treatments, final arrangements, and deciding her future plans, I can’t stop thinking about the hot as fuck redhead and how she twists me up inside.