Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 72756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“Summer!” a familiar voice yells. On top of the stairs is Devil in his red leather jacket, grinning widely. He takes them in two giant steps and sweeps me into his arms.
I yelp as he swings me around. “Hey! Put me down!”
“I’ll think about it. Crash isn’t with you guys, is he? He’s not picking up.”
“Fuck,” Preacher curses. “I was hoping he came in overnight and we missed the message.”
The moment I hear that, I panic rises in my chest, even though I’m glad Devil’s safe. I look up at them. “He’s in trouble, isn’t he? He’s in trouble and it’s all my fault.” It feels like I’m going to throw up. “We have to find him. Call the hospitals. Check the papers. I’ll go back. We can—”
“Breathe, Summer,” Devil says in a low, calm voice like he’s trying to calm a wild animal. Which might not be that far off, honestly. “He’s smart and fast. If he’s laying low, he’s got a good reason for it.”
A grizzled old biker comes out of the garage, wiping a wrench off on his jeans. There’s more gray than dark in his hair and the same can be said for his mustache. A brown boxer dog weaves around his legs so he has to watch where he’s stepping. “Preacher,” he says with a nod. I can’t take my eyes off his face, where one steely eye sweeps over us taking everything in, and the other stares, sightless and milky.
Preacher gives a curt nod. “Prez.”
“That’s Eagle-Eye,” Devil whispers. “He’s club president.”
Eagle-Eye crosses his arms over his chest and looks at me until I give a polite curtsey out of sheer panic. He guffaws. “Who the hell is Little Miss Moppet over here? Let me guess. Honey, did they kidnap you?”
“What? No!”
“Hmmmm. Buy you?”
My jaw drops. “No!”
He scratches his beard and cocks his head. “Knock you up?”
“No! I mean… I don’t think so… No!”
“You mafia?”
“No!” I feel like a broken record.
“Thank fucking God. Does everyone hear that? They brought a cute bitch home and for once it’s not going to turn into a fucking inter-state manhunt.” He swings his burly arm around, pointing at everyone that’s watching.
Preacher coughs and looks down at his boots.
“Do I want to know?” Eagle-eye asks, voice deadly calm. “Better yet, do I fucking need to know?”
Devil laughs. “Not yet.”
“Then I’m going to go back to working on my bike and you boys are going to do everything in your fucking power to keep it that way for as long as possible.”
“Come on, angel. Let’s go in and figure out where to keep you until—”
The distant rumble of a motorcycle interrupts us as it comes in fast, brakes squealing as it slips in through the front gate. We all whirl, and there he is, looking windswept and tired, but alive and in one piece.
“Crash!” I break away from Devil and Preacher and tear across the courtyard. “You’re safe.”
Crash picks me up like I don't weigh a thing and squeezes me close. “Of course I'm fucking safe. What else would I be? I had to take some detours, and slept in someone’s barn just to be safe, but I lost them, no problem.”
“Why the fuck didn’t you call? Or answer our messages?” growls Preacher, and though his tone is harsh, it's laced with relief.
“A fucking cow stepped on it when I was hiding in the barn. Can you believe it? It's almost new, too. You think they can fix it if there’s actual shit stuck in the screen?”
I bury my face in his shoulder. “You idiot. I was so worried.”
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, sunshine.” He squeezes me so hard it hurts, but I don't care. Before I know what I'm doing, I'm kissing him, and he doesn't hesitate to respond. There are a few whoops and whistles from some of the bikers, including Devil. They can watch if they want. I doubt a little kissing is the worst that goes on around here.
When I finally come up for air, he's grinning like an idiot. “We did it. You’re out. That calls for some fucking celebration.” The smoldering excitement in his eyes makes no secret what kind of celebration he's thinking of.
Which reminds me of last night and this morning. I know Preacher said he wouldn’t mind, but I really should tell him what happened, right? “Crash—”
“What’s got you looking so worried, beautiful?” he asks with a wink, then puts me down long enough to greet Preacher and Devil with those macho back slapping hugs men like to do.
When he pulls away, Preacher drops hand on Crash’s shoulder at arm's length and gives him a shake. “Don't you fucking do that again.”
Crash laughs and puts his hand on the small of my back as we all head up the stairs into the main building. The inside of the clubhouse is both what I expected and not. I stop for a moment to take it in even if Crash nudges me on.