Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 83970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
The silence after the engine is cut is deafening. Suddenly I’m more aware of my surroundings and more than a little apprehensive to be in the dark with a stranger who’s covered in tattoos and the president of a motorcycle gang.
You get hit daily by a man who wears a suit to work, my brain reminds me. That fact doesn’t calm my nerves, though.
“I have to go back,” I tell him as he pulls his phone from the front pocket of his jeans.
He raises an eyebrow at me like I’ve lost my mind. Then his face changes and he gives me the look. The same look I get from co-workers. The same one the doctors gave me at the ER the last time I went. The one that says ‘this woman is pitiful for staying with an abusive man.’ The one that also looks like the ‘she must like it if she sticks around’ look.
I hang my head, ashamed; just like I’ve done each and every other time I’ve been looked at this way.
“I didn’t grab any of my things,” I finally mutter raising my gaze to his. I’m met with understanding, golden-brown eyes. My heart pounds harder in my chest with unexplained emotion; none of which resembles the fear and apprehension I felt just moments ago.
Safe, my mind whispers. You’re safe with him.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” I want to close my eyes at the sound of his low timbre.
“Em… Emmalyn,” I tell him.
He gives me a small smile and then turns his attention to his phone, hitting a few things, and then holding it to his ear.
“I need you to take care of something,” he says into the phone rather than a customary greeting.
My eyes snap to him, and the first thought I have is the “something that needs to be taken care of” is going to be Bobby. I shuffle off of the bike and take a few steps toward him. I don’t do it to protect Bobby; I couldn’t care less if he met his final demise, but I don’t want others getting in trouble for a situation I put myself into.
“I need you to head to the bar and get Emmalyn…” He holds the phone away his mouth in a questioning manner.
“Mikaelson,” I answer.
“I need you to get Emmalyn Mikaelson’s belongings from the bartender.”
“Have them ask for Gina. She’ll get my things for me,” I tell him quickly.
He relays the message. “I’m switching hotels. I’ll message you later with the info.” He pauses while the other person speaks. “I’ll explain everything later.” Another pause and a light laugh. “Yeah, it has something to do with that.”
He ends the call and begins to make his way back to the bike. “You coming?” he throws over his shoulder before the machine rumbles back to life.
“Like I have a choice,” I mutter looking around the deserted parking lot that’s situated in a not-so-great neighborhood.
I climb on behind him and brace myself for the pain. Each and every bump and mild jostle is killing my already injured ribs and by the time we pull into a small motel a few miles away I’m near sobbing again. I pray I get my things soon, even though I’m sure the Tylenol I have in my purse won’t be strong enough to ease the pain I’m in.
I wrap my arms around my waist as he climbs off of the bike. I’m unable to pretend anymore, and I’m unconcerned about the tears streaming down my cheeks. He turns back to me, and I feel the heat from his body he’s so close. I look up at him and gasp as he reaches a hand out and wipes away the tears from my face with cold, wind-blown fingers.
“He’ll never hurt you again,” he vows in a gentle voice. A voice that has no business coming from a muscled up biker. I nod my head, refusing to explain my injuries. The look of pity hitting his face again is not something I can handle right now.
“Come on,” he says calmly with a hand outstretched.
I get off the bike and stand close to him, but I don’t reach out and take his hand. He lets it fall without presumption or anger as we walk into the lobby of the clean, but small motel.
“I don’t have any money,” I tell him just now realizing why we’re at a motel.
“It’s a good thing I do then, huh?” he says playfully as he opens his wallet and pays for the room with only a fraction of the cash he has.
I busy myself with the rack of travel pamphlets while he takes care of the rooms. I make a mental note to log the amount so I can pay him back for my room.
“Ready?” he asks startling me.
I take a step away from him once I realize how close he’s standing next to me. “I’ll pay you back,” I whisper and hold my hand out for the key to my room.