Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 90919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Things with Myla had been good, too. Great, actually. We’d always fit. We’d always liked spending time with each other more than anyone else. Now we had the added benefit of incredible sex and her whispering she loved me as she fell asleep at night. Only two things would’ve made it better—if she’d stop being such a pain in my ass and if she had a ring on her finger. The first thing was never going to change, but I’d already started making plans for the second.
There was a diamond ring currently burning a hole in my saddlebag.
It was probably way too soon for that shit, but it was us. Myla and I had started long before we’d made it official.
“You need anythin’?” I asked Gray, wandering over to the Corvette he was working on.
“Uh—” He was elbows deep in the engine and barely paying attention. After a moment, he looked up. “What?”
“You need any help? It’s slow as shit in here.”
“Nah, I’m good,” he muttered distractedly. Then his eyes seemed to sharpen as he looked at me closely. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothin’.”
“Somethin’ is.”
I shook my head.
“Spill,” he ordered, straightening fully.
“Nothin’,” I repeated. “I’m serious.”
“Bullshit.”
We stared at each other for a minute, and I knew that he wasn’t going to let me walk away.
“Got a feelin’,” I finally said. I sounded like a fucking moron.
“Yeah?”
“It’s nothin’,” I assured him. “Things are good, which is probably why it feels like the sky’s gonna fall at any minute.”
Gray’s lips twitched. “Come on, Chicken Little.”
I’d walked right into that one. I wasn’t sure if Wanker or Chicken Little was worse. Hopefully the name didn’t stick.
I followed Gray through the garage and into the clubhouse where Grease and Casper were sitting at the bar.
“Hey, Gramps,” Gray called out. “You got anythin’ new?”
“Things are quiet,” Casper replied, looking us over. “Why?”
“Chicken Little’s got a feelin’,” Gray replied.
Fuck me.
Grease laughed. “Sky’s fallin’? Might just be indigestion, kid.”
“I told him it was probably nothin’,” I agreed.
“The spot between my shoulder blades has been itchin’ all day,” Gray told his grandfather quietly.
“What the hell does that mean?” I asked.
“Feels like there’s a target on your back,” Grease explained quietly.
“I can reach out,” Casper said. “See if I hear anything.”
“I’m gonna do the same,” Gray replied. He looked at me. “You talked to your sisters today?”
“This mornin’,” I confirmed. “They’re fine.”
“Good.”
“You think this might have somethin’ to do with Richie?” I asked. We’d stopped having the house watched almost a month ago. Things had been all quiet on that front.
“Could be,” Gray said. “Probably not. Club’s got a few irons in the fire that we’re monitorin’. Could be somethin’ else. Could be nothin’.”
“Trust your gut, kid,” Grease ordered, pointing at me with his coffee mug. “Best advice anyone ever gave me. Saved my ass more than a few times.”
“My gut’s saved your ass more than a few times,” Casper corrected.
“That too.” Grease saluted him.
“It’s probably nothin’,” I said again. “Myla’s tryin’ to take her girls out tonight and they’re all fired up to go without protection—”
Both the older men laughed.
“That’s probably all it is.”
“You gonna let her?” Casper asked curiously.
“Nobody lets Myla do shit,” I replied. “She does whatever the fuck she wants. But, no. I’m gonna see if Bas will go with ’em.”
“Yeah, sounds about right,” Grease said with a chuckle. “Christ, I’m glad that shit is behind me.”
“Speak for yourself,” Casper replied. “My woman’s still fuckin’ crazy.”
“You’ve already got a plan for that,” Gray pointed out. “That’s not what’s fuckin’ with ya.”
“I was raised in a house where our mother came home plastered and picked fights with my older sister on the regular,” I replied. “I wasn’t jokin’ when I said it was probably nothin’. If shit’s goin’ good, I’m waitin’ on the other shoe to drop.”
“Sounds to me like you’ve got a finely honed sense of impending trouble,” Casper corrected. “Not a bad thing to have.”
“I’ll make some calls,” Gray told me. “Keep an eye out.”
“Always,” I said as he walked away.
“Get used to livin’ with that sense of doom,” Casper warned. “Trust me on this—Myla won’t mellow with age.”
“Fantastic,” I muttered.
The rest of the day dragged by. I ended up leaving an hour early—which made me feel like a chump—because there wasn’t anything for me to do. I stopped on the way home to grab Saoirse a gift card to a shop she liked in town and made it home just in time to find Noel sweeping off the front porch.
“What the hell are you doin’?” I asked. “You realize that people are gonna be draggin’ shit all over that in a couple of hours, right?”
“That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t clean it now,” she replied primly.
“It’s a family birthday party,” I said, taking the broom from her hands. “The porch looks fine.”
“It’s the first time I’m hosting,” she said as she followed me inside. “We always have parties over at Tommy and Heather’s.”