Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
I grin at him. “Like that, did you?”
“Gotta say, never met someone who can take bein’ cut with a knife and not flinch. Don’t want to know how you learned that little trick.”
“No,” I agree, “you probably don’t.”
“You know I’m not leavin’ here tonight without you,” he murmurs, sitting on the stool beside me and waving Trev down for a drink.
The old man walks over, eyeing Mex as he carefully takes a glass. His eyes move to me, and I give him a reassuring nod that everything is okay. I can handle the biker, because little does he know, I want him to take me. I’m not going to make it too easy, though. Oh no, if I have to do this, I’m going to enjoy myself.
“We’ll see about that,” I say, taking the glass as Trev fills it with some more vodka. “Tell me, Mexican, why are you so persistent? Surely you can get information without me?”
I swivel the stool toward him, and when his eyes settle on me, my heart skips a beat. Fuck me, I need to get laid, because this man is beginning to tempt me in a way that is making my body crave him. I can’t be craving someone I’m about to stab in the back. Still, as my eyes rake down that hard, chiseled body, I can’t help but fantasize. He would be a good fuck, of that I’m more than certain.
Dammit, Acacia, snap out of it.
“You done?” Mex murmurs, making my eyes snap back up to his.
“Yes, thank you.”
“To answer your question, I’m persistent because you fucked my club around and then you proceeded to make sure any information we did gather was trashed. We don’t take kindly to that, so now you’re goin’ to repay us by giving us what we want.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s not your club, it belongs to the hot guy with the issues. What’s his name again? Nightmare? Western? Both? You bikers are your nicknames, makes things very confusing for the rest of us.”
Mex grunts. “Clearly, you don’t understand how a club works.”
“I have a fair idea.” I shrug, bringing my vodka to my lips and swallowing it down.
“My world is very fuckin’ different to yours.”
I snort. “Is it?”
“Yeah. It is.”
“So your club doesn’t run any kind of illegal business? You don’t do things you’re not supposed to? You don’t take lives when said lives double cross you? Don’t flatter yourself, biker, your world is equally as bad as mine.”
He doesn’t answer because he knows I’m right.
Different title, same lifestyle.
“How hard are you goin’ to make this for me?”
I tip my head to the side and stare at him. “You’re not taking me.”
“Yeah, I fuckin’ am.”
“And how, dare I ask, are you going to do that? See Trev over there? One cry of help from me and he’ll have this entire bar bringing you down in a matter of minutes.”
“Who said I was takin’ you from here?”
His voice is filled with challenge.
“You found me here, but you won’t find me again.”
“I know where you live. I know where your friends live. I know where your family lives. I know exactly where you hide and where you play ...”
“And yet,” I say, crossing my legs and leaning forward, “you need me to find my mother.”
“Your mother is a different story.”
“Hmmm, convenient.”
“We can dance all night, sweetheart, or you can accept that one way or another, I will get what I want.”
I flash him a smile. “We’ll see about that.”
With that, I stand up and walk around the bar, disappearing out the back.
I’m not going to make it easy for him, but I’m not going to try too hard to get away. A bit of balance will do him good. Moving through the back area, I step out the exit that leads upstairs to a parking lot. The moment the fresh air hits my face, I close my eyes and breathe it in. I’m drunker than I thought, and as I sway on my feet, my head feels light and my stomach twists.
I know myself better than anyone, and I know that I didn’t drink that much.
That fucking biker drugged me.
“Come on, surely even you had to see that one comin’.”
Turning slowly toward the voice, I see Mex standing with his arms crossed, staring at me. Well fuck, he’s better than I thought.
“Well played, biker,” I slur, clenching my eyes shut for a second.
I hate being drugged.
Mostly because I despise not having control.
Big hands curl under my armpits as my legs grow weak. My vision blurs as Mex scoops me into his arms. “You’re good, but you’re not that good. I’ll get away. I always do.”
My voice is so warped, I’m not even sure that my words came out how I thought they came out. Mex doesn’t say a word; instead, he begins walking, his heavy booted feet stomping on the ground as he retreats with me in his arms. I can’t fight it any longer –my eyes roll and, slowly, the world around me goes dark.