Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114819 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114819 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
When he hit the bottom step, he cast a quick glance around, catching his old man bent over a service bay. Trace was there with him, blocking his father’s view of the bottom step. Trace looked Dev’s way. That steely gaze held a deadly serious stare. The one he’d given Dev about twenty times today.
He wasn’t sure he’d want to happen across Trace in a back alley somewhere. The bodyguard was probably more of a threat than he realized. Dev was most likely guilty of misjudging all those good looks and easy smiles.
A dark shadow drew Dev’s attention toward the entrance of the building. A big dude came inside the showroom as Dev headed out. The guy was tall, tattooed and oozed sexuality in a gritty, raw, stylish kind of way. Dev narrowed his eyes, taking everything in. The hair and close-cropped beard made him look purposefully put together, different from the vintage jeans and frayed pearl button button-down, sleeves rolled up his tanned tatted arms. The tattoos continued to his wrists and hands. They also snaked up the fade of his hairline.
The bangles and straps at his wrist and neck reminded Dev of his own style.
As he stepped fully inside the building, he lifted his sunglasses off the bridge of his nose and gave a stern, yet…familiar look.
Still, he couldn’t place the guy.
“I was almost here when I got the message you canceled my appointment.”
Dev squinted his eyes, having no clue what that meant. He was done for the day.
“Okay,” Dev finally answered.
If this was a Cash setup, his boyfriend had to remember how bad he was with improv.
“I thought I’d swing by anyway. I heard there was a bike shop here too.” His voice was low and husky. When his gaze left Dev’s to survey the room, Dev was released from the penetrating stare that held him transfixed. Fuck him, he hadn’t even realized he’d been held.
What the fuck was happening?
“Yeah. Clearly,” Dev answered then continued the sideways walk out of the building. He didn’t want the outline of the envelope to be seen by his old man.
Dev splayed his hands as if saying the guy stood among the bikes for sale. Not much of a selection. Six Harleys in different styles, all with expensive price tags. Not a great bike shop. The bulk of their business came from service work.
“So you’ll reschedule for next week?” His enormous biceps rivaled those on Keyes as he crossed them over his impressive chest. For the first time, his direct stare landed on Trace then his old man who had stood tall, using a rag to wipe his hands as he listened to the conversation.
Dev looked between each of them, lost to whatever the hell was happening here.
“What’s your name?” Dev finally asked. “I’ll get my girl to message you to lock in an appointment.”
“Kreed.” The name came out like a threat.
Yeah, he officially didn’t know the guy. That realization meant he could stop giving a damn. Dev hooked a thumb toward his old man. “The old guy owns the bikes, but you can probably get ’em cheaper from the dealership.”
“Get the fuck out of here,” Fox barked, and for the first time in maybe his whole life, he followed his old man’s instructions.
With one last look at the customer, Dev ducked his head and let Trace flank his side all the way through the overhead warehouse doors into the parking lot. He kept his stride long and steady as he closed the distance to his bike.
In a moment of indecision, Dev contemplated not riding with such a precious document tucked in the back of his waistband but with all the cameras installed in the parking lot, it’d be best to ride a few miles then pull over to reposition the bylaws.
“He’ll stay as long as it takes for us to get out of here.” Dev heard the softly muttered words as he put his sunglasses on. Understanding flickered to life in his brain. He glanced at Trace as he grabbed the hand grip, preparing to mount his bike.
“He’s one of you?” Dev asked just as quietly.
Trace gave him a quizzical look as if the answer was obvious. Besides Trace being a master of the severe stare, he also gave a pretty mean you’re-a-dumbass expression. He finally nodded, pointing to his watch as if that meant something to Dev. Maybe it called in the calvary at a moment’s notice for all he knew.
What was with these guys?
He was a fucking biker who lived and died depending on the next turn.
Where could Kreed have come from in the two minutes it took for Dev to get the bylaws then trot down the stairs?
The more glaring question was how was every guy Trace worked with so fucking hot? Dev looked back over his shoulder to see if he could spot Kreed from behind. He bet that ass was slapping. Regretfully, Kreed was out of eyesight. Dev settled on the bike, bringing the engine to life on a roar.