Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
That did not just happen.
Only it did.
And he was still inside me.
On that thought, I pulled away, reaching down to grab my panties and pants, yanking them back into place. I was walking back toward the door before I was even finished fastening my pants.
"The fuck are you doing?" Fallon snapped as I made it to the door, retrieving my phone with one hand, and tucking my boob back into my cup with the other before reaching to undo the door lock.
"I'd rather be out there with the bullets," I said as he moved in behind me.
"Don't be stupid," he snapped, grabbing my wrist.
"Don't fucking touch me," I growled, yanking out of his grasp, then charging outside.
My hand reached for my gun as I rushed out of the small alley and into the bigger one, hearing voices. Some calm and collected, others raised.
It sounded like some of my men.
Which meant they were likely arguing with some of Fallon's guys.
"If someone took our president because of you—" Dutch was yelling at the tall, dark, and handsome older version of Fallon. His father, Reign.
"Nothing happened to me," I announced as I moved into the alleyway. "It takes more than a few pesky bullets to take me out. You know that."
"My son..." Reign said, voice strained.
"Don't worry. Your little president-in-training is fine too. He'll live to annoy all of humankind for another day."
"Did you see anyone?" Grandpa asked, looking like he wanted to reach out for me, but knowing he couldn't. Because the men were around. And because I wouldn't accept it. I couldn't. There was no room for that softness in our hard lives.
"It was dark. I couldn't even see where the shooter was positioned. They had a lot of ammo, though."
"You good?" Reign asked, looking past me.
I didn't look back. I couldn't. I wasn't sure the guilt wouldn't be right there on my face if I did.
It turned out I wouldn't need to. Because Fallon didn't wait for me to move aside to let him pass. Nope, he just went ahead and rammed right into my shoulder.
"Hey," Dutch hissed, settling down when I held up a hand to silence him.
It didn't escape me, though, that Reign shot his son a look that I could only describe as a mix of confused, disappointed, and annoyed.
Because the Henchmen were well known for not putting their hands on women.
"Hey, man. I missed all the fun!" one of his men said, moving forward through the crowd.
He was one of the newer members. Dezi, if I recalled correctly. A fun-loving shit-starter who seemed allergic to wearing a shirt underneath his cut for some reason.
"Yeah, it was a great time," Fallon said in a dry tone.
"And now the question is," Reign said, looking between Fallon and me, "were they here for Fallon, Danny, or the both of them?"
"How'd you two end up at the same place at the same time anyway?" Dutch asked, brows pinched.
"We were both leaving Chaz's," I explained.
"My bike crapped out," Fallon added. "I was debating if I should push it home or not when she came around the building."
"Walking back to my clubhouse," I added, wondering if it looked suspicious that Fallon and I refused to glance at each other.
"No one was on the street?" Reign asked as some of his men came back from walking around the street.
"Not that I remember," Fallon said.
"I mean, there were people outside of Chaz's. And there are always people around this neighborhood at all hours of the night. But if they were around, they were in the shadows."
"Oh, here comes Jersey's finest," one of Reign's other men said, jerking his chin toward the red and blue lights flashing up the sides of the buildings around the next corner.
"Here," I said, handing my gun off to Pops. "Get lost with that."
"Yeah, here," another of Reign and Fallon's men said, holding a hand out for Fallon's gun, then taking off back toward Chaz's as Pops headed off in the direction of our clubhouse.
They were both just out of sight when the cop cars finally pulled up.
"Beast," Reign greeted one of the officers as he slid out of his cruiser.
Officer Beaston was his actual name. But it seemed like everyone called him Beast. He looked like one, too. He was a brick wall of a man that the police department barely made a size large enough to clothe, judging by the way his biceps bulged against the material of his sleeves. He was dark-haired and dark-eyed, and towered over his partner as she climbed out of the cruiser to move forward with him.
"Reign. What's it been? Five whole minutes since you started shit in this town?" Beast asked, shooting Reign a look of resigned annoyance.
"We haven't started anything," Fallon said, drawing the cop's attention. "I was trying to figure out what was wrong with my bike when someone started shooting at us."