Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Maven gave me the day off, a thank you for taking such good care of her business while she was in the slammer. Though I could definitely use the distraction, I’m happy for the free time.
I’m dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, ready for a relaxed day as far as anybody can tell. I scan the clubhouse and see a few of the girls cleaning tables while another sweeps the floors and restocks the bar. They’re not paying any attention to me, and there are no bikers in sight, thank God.
So, this is the perfect time for my exit. I creep toward the door and push it open, temporarily blinded by the sunshine. So, naturally, I instinctively reach for my sunglasses, but they aren’t on top of my head or tucked into my shirt collar.
“Shit,” I mutter to myself. I hesitate, ultimately deciding not to go back inside. Surely, I have a backup pair in my car somewhere. Kenna’s words replay in my mind as I stroll to my car. I know I need to do something, which means heading to Club Dynasty to find out what they know about Sandee.
Sandee’s not a flake, even when she’s wrapped up in a new romance with some rich guy. I have a sinking feeling she’s with Nogales, though.
It’s been more than a few weeks since I last heard from her, and I really miss her. I’m afraid by now something bad has happened to her.
She bailed me out often enough when it came to the bills before I started working at For Goodness Cakes. Mom would forget about her responsibilities when she was in love—again—and it was up to me to make sure the lights stayed on, and the rent was paid. Sometimes Sandee helped. It’s time for me to return the favor.
I crank the engine to life and tug on my seatbelt because I may be reckless, but I’m not stupid. I think I’m not, anyway.
“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Joaquin’s growly voice startles the hell out of me.
I scream out, and my hands leave the steering wheel for a beat as my car slowly backs out of the parking space. I slam on the brakes and glare up at him through my driver’s side window. He’s on his bike, looking at me like a grew a second head.
“I’m taking care of some business. What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”
He nods, a sexy smirk curling his lips upward. “I get it. You’re trying to get yourself killed.”
Killed? “Hell, no, I’m not. I’m just trying to find my friend and make sure she’s all right.”
He stares at me like I’m some foolish little girl, and I hate it. “The cops don’t care. No one seems to care but me, which means it’s up to me to do what needs to be done.”
Joaquin looks like he’s about to haul me out of this car, sling me over his strong shoulder, and march back inside the clubhouse. Instead, his shoulders drop, and he nods. “Hop on, and we can go together.”
I’m ready to argue with him, but his words pull me up short. “What?”
He flashes that panty-searing smile. “You heard me. I’ve already told Ace, and he’s cool with it, but only if I’m your escort. So, hop on, and let’s get moving.”
When shock turns me into a statue with my jaw wide open, Joaquin claps his hands loudly. “Giddy-up, woman. Get your fine ass movin’.”
After another few seconds of sitting behind the steering wheel with a dumbfounded expression on my face, I nod and kill the engine. I step outside the car on shaky legs before I command myself to get my shit together. Joaquin is offering me a safe way to do what I need to do, and I’m hesitating. “Okay. Thanks,” I say quietly.
The ride to Club Dynasty passes quickly. Before I can gather my thoughts, we arrive at the club. The music drifts out into the street, bumping a sexy beat, and inside, girls rotate on stage every two and a half minutes.
“I’ll ask the questions,” Joaquin says in a no-nonsense command.
I stop and frown up at him. “Excuse me?” That macho bullshit doesn’t work with me.
His deep brown eyes roll in exasperation, and I bite back a smile.
“If I ask the questions,” he explains, feigning patience, “people are more likely to be honest, fearing a beatdown. If you ask, we’ll be here all fucking night.”
I want to argue with him, to tell him he’s wrong, but despite his handsome face, Joaquin looks tough, like he won’t take anyone’s bullshit. “Okay, fine. But you do your enforcement thing, and I’ll ask questions that you don’t. Deal?”
I hold out a hand, and when his much bigger hand clasps mine, I gasp and close my eyes. The electricity between us is out of this world powerful, and I need to steel my hormones and my emotions against that heat and that fire.