Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Perhaps that’s why I don’t feel afraid of him.
I don’t feel as if he’s out to hurt me.
The question is, what does he want from me?
TWO
SULLY
“Not stalkin’, I would say, just intrigued. Just wantin’ to know what the wee girl is hidin’ beneath all that ink,” I tell her, once again taking in the beautiful tattoos adorning her perfect body.
“Nothing that concerns you,” she bites back in her American accent, and I can’t help chuckling. Cute. The wee thing is feisty. But I think if I told her she’s cute, she’d have a shit fit. She’s so small I’m sure I could pick her up with one hand. Imaginin’ her straddlin’ my bike flits through my mind, and I have to cough to hide my groan.
Even though she’s smokin’, when the breeze whistles by us, it carries her scent toward me, and I inhale deeply. Jesus fucking Christ, her sweet perfume is enough to force a saint to sin. She turns her face away, but I’m hooked. No woman has ever refused me down or been so fucking feisty. I don’t know what it is about her, but I want to delve into the darkness that swims in her pretty eyes.
“If there’s one thing you need to learn about me, Lucky, it’s that I don’t give up.” Without waiting for her retort, I turn and head away from her towards the benches which are set up for us to relax on when there is some feckin’ sunshine. But today, there’s not goin’ta be much. I sit down before I light my smoke and inhale a lungful of nicotine. Even though the scent overpowers the fresh air, I can’t help but smell her, and it makes me wonder how much it would take to get to know her. Lucky Clover. A pretty wee thing who’s captured my attention. She’s in this feckin’ shite place, and I wonder why.
Running my fingers through my long hair as the wind billows the locks, I cast a glance over my shoulder to see her half hidden in the shadows, as if they’ll keep her safe from whatever is plaguing her. She’s still standing there, looking like a deer caught in a set of headlights.
Her big eyes look right through me, and I wonder if she sees into the depths of my soul. Can she see the shite I’ve seen? When Monster told me my first job in the club was to go undercover, I didn’t expect to be sent to feckin’ rehab. But I get it—as the newest patched in member, I have to do my part.
I glance at her again, and my mind ticks over. There’s somethin’ about her that’s made sure anxiety twists in my gut. I’ve been able to read people all my life. I had to learn from an early age. Da was a fecker when it came to drink, and I had to know how to read his demeanour when he stumbled into the house. Feckin’ abusive arsehole.
The thought brings me back to her. Clover. It was the ink that caught my attention. People I know get tattoos to express themselves or hide something. With her, I have a feelin’ it’s the latter.
How I wish I could meet the arsehole who inflicted that on her. I’d ensure his balls were shoved right down his throat while his dick was shoved so far up his arse he’d need surgery to get it out.
I turn away, pullin’ out another cigarette from the packet and sparkin’ it to life. I can thank fuck they didn’t take away my smokes when I walked in here. I had to make them believe I needed help. When this job is done, Monster will get me out. But for now, I need to be the addict everyone thinks I am. I spend my time outside inhalin’ the thick smoke that calms the tension in my muscles.
The rain is coming. The rumbling of thunder echoes through the sky as I lean back and look up, finally tearin’ my stare away from the wee Clover.
I didn’t want to come in here and do this shite job, but I knew I had to. Monster has given me a family, and I owe him my life. When I think back, I realise I shoulda been locked up a long time ago. But the Royal Bastards were there fer me, and I can’t deny them. Even though I want nothin’ more than to be out on the road, lookin’ fer Bragan, I know gettin’ this information is goin’ta help us.
Pushing off the bench, I turn to find she’s no longer there, and a sense of disappointment washes over me, realisin’ she’s gone indoors. Nobody else likes being in the heat, so the yard is empty. I decide to sit back and wait to see if she comes outside again, and soon enough, moments later, she strolls out with a bottle of chilled water.