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)
“Me? I’m Chef’s old lady.”
I chew my lip, processing. “Is slut what I am now?”
The guys share a look, but it’s Jewel that answers. “You guys really need to sit her down and have a talk. No, hun. You’re with them, so for now the members accept that you can be here, but after a while everyone’s going to want to know how you fit in.”
There’s a countdown running and I didn’t even know.
“It's not the most progressive world, baby,” says Preacher softly. “But Eagle-eye is a solid guy and the President sets the tone for the whole MC. He doesn’t put up with some of the real bullshit you’d see in other clubs. You’re safe. We won’t let anything happen to you that you aren’t asking for, got me? So are you gonna show them?”
Crash's head snaps up. “Show us what?”
I put the slut thing up on a mental shelf to worry about later. The world they took me out of wasn’t exactly progressive either. If bad people can use good words for evil, then maybe good people can use bad words for good.
Somehow I managed to forget what happened at the tattoo parlor. I can't help smiling up at them, feeling very mischievous, because getting a tattoo was such an out of character thing for me to do, and now I'm not sure how they'll feel about it.
“Just celebrating another first.” I bite my lower lip nervously.
They both look at Preacher. “You took her ass without us?” asks Devil.
“Take my what? What the heck are you talking about? That's not at all what we… What? No!”
“Then what?” Crash crouches in front of me so his hazels are locked with my plain brown eyes. His expression is confused.
Preacher puts his hands up. “Before you fuckers say a goddamn thing, I did not make her do it. She can take all the fucking credit for this on her own.”
Swallowing down my nervousness, I lift up my hair into a bun on the back of my head, then turn so they can see the little eagle in flight that Wraith put behind my ear. It's sore and itchy, but I promised not to touch it, and even if it's red, they should be able to see it through the tattoo film.
“You got a tattoo?” Devil drops onto the couch right next to me so he can see better. “No, that's a dumb fucking question. Obviously you did. Holy shit.”
“Jesus fuck,” agrees Crash. His eyes flit between my face and the space behind my ear like he can't quite figure out if it's really me he's looking at.
“Do… Do you like it?” They're just shocked, and I have no idea if that's good or bad. I ramble on, trying to explain. “It's an eagle, because I wanted something that represented freedom, and since it was the Screaming Eagles that freed me, it seemed obvious. At first Wraith said he thought bird tattoos were boring, but we all kind of agreed this one fit. Say something. Are you mad?”
I've shocked Crash silent, which is saying something, but Devil squeezes me in a hug. “I fucking love it.” Then he pats Crash on the back. “And so does he. He just wasn't ready for his mousy little step-sister to get inked. Suddenly your crush grows up, you know, and she's a whole new person.”
“Watch it,” Crash growls.
“Right, anyway,” I say as I let my hair down. “It's a little sensitive, but I've never done anything that wild before.”
“If that's the wildest thing you can think of,” says Preacher in a slow drawl, “then we obviously didn't do our job last night.”
My face burns hot as I look around to see if anyone heard that. Nobody seems to be paying attention, and then I hear a baby crying.
What?
A blonde woman walks into the common room, bouncing a little girl with white blonde curls that can't be more than a couple of months old on her arm, trying to calm it. She coos and makes kissy noises, but I can tell she’s exhausted. She glances at the stairs up to the second floor, but comes our way instead.
Devil waves a hand. “Charlotte giving you trouble?”
“No, of course not,” she answers sarcastically. “What makes you ask?”
“No reason. I’m sure they’re supposed to make that noise all the time. I don't really get babies.”
“But you're such a big one.” She looks past him, right at me. “Is this the girl you brought in yesterday? She’s cute. Very girl next door. The sluts are going to get pissed if she takes Crash off the market.”
“Faith,” Preacher growls.
“I'm sorry. That was true, but rude.” The woman shakes her head like she's chastising herself. She looks right at me. “I'm running on like two hours of sleep. Normally, having three guys around means we all get enough sleep, but they're out on assignment, and my hardass dad who’s seen hell of a lot worse than a little milk and shit doesn’t deal well with his daughter whipping out a tit.” She practically yells the last part up at the tinted windows over the common room.