Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Mack looks genuinely concerned. “You all set, darlin’? Got a place to stay while you’re looking?”
I nod. The Screaming Eagles are trouble, but there’s something about these three that makes me feel like if I said I needed something, they’d make it happen. I bet Reaper actually would make room in his bed for me, and he might not be the only one. At least until the next girl came along.
With a pang of regret, I let my sensible side win out. “Yeah, I’m crashing with a friend for now.”
“Did it help? Coming and seeing the place?” Scrapper asks.
Hopefully more than they’ll ever know. “A little, I guess. It’s strange being back here. Too quiet with your bar being closed. I bet wherever I end up next will seem boring compared to this place. It was always, um, interesting living across the street from you guys.”
Mack looks me up and down, slow and easy. “I’ll bet. Ever come party with us while you were here? I don’t remember seeing you before the fire, and I never forget a pretty face.”
“Me? No! Never.” My cheeks prickle, flushing with heat.
“Then let’s change that before you disappear and forget all about us. There’s a party tonight, and if you’re looking for closure, trust me, beautiful, we can send you off with a bang.” Scrapper winks.
Classes don’t start until next week and—no. It totally sounds like trouble. “Thanks, but it’s probably not a good idea.”
“Scared?” Reaper reaches out and tugs on the end of a strand of my hair.
“Hey! No!”
“Then come. Shit, bring a friend.”
“I don’t know.”
For a year Meghan and I would watch out the windows, wondering if it was as crazy inside the walls as it seemed from the outside. A couple times we almost crossed over to the gate when we could tell there was a party going on, but never dared.
Maybe I deserve to celebrate a little?
The flash drive sits in my pocket, safely tucked away, and classes don’t start for a few more days. I don’t see them move, but all three men seem a little closer than they were a minute ago. Close enough to touch.
Mack leans in. “What do you have to lose? I promise we won’t let anything happen to you that you don’t fucking beg for.”
Oh my…
“What time?”
3
MILA
A little ways down the street, floodlights illuminate the tower over the Screaming Eagles compound where their logo is displayed proudly on the wall, declaring their claim on South Side for all to see. It might be scary to some people, but it actually makes me a little nostalgic for all the nights I slept with my window open in the summer, listening to the sound of motorcycle engines and seeing the shadows that light cast on my wall.
I walk fast even though most of the time this is a very safe neighborhood. Sure, the bikers can be rough and it made me nervous when we moved in, but nobody wants to get on the bad side of the Screaming Eagles right here in the heart of their territory. The attack by a rival club in the spring put a serious dent in my false sense of security, but I haven’t heard of any trouble since.
“Mila! Slow down and listen to me.” Meghan grabs onto my arm and yanks me to a halt. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”
I pull my arm away. “What? Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet. You used to be the one begging me to go to one of their parties.”
“I know, but that was when I didn’t think we were actually going to do it. I don’t think I can go in. It’s easy for you. Nobody cares if a journalist goes to a biker party, but if I get caught in there and it goes on my record, what law firm would hire me?”
“Why would anything be on your record? It’s not against the law to go to a party.”
Outside the gate, several big bikers in leather vests with the Screaming Eagles logo are holding watch, checking everyone who tries to get in. One glances our way and says something to his friend who looks and then shrugs. The heavy thrum of rock music comes from inside, and people are laughing and talking so loud we can hear it out here. I’m drawn to it like there’s a magnet in my gut, pulling me right towards the club. I bounce in place, not wanting to leave, but she’s not wrong. If I were her, I might feel the same, and I don’t want to leave Meghan.
“Yo! Mila!” a voice shouts. It’s Scrapper. He claps one of the guards on the shoulder and jogs out of the gate in our direction. “What’s the hold up? Is this your friend?”
I’m not proud of the bolt of jealousy I feel when he looks at Meghan. She’s tiny, with big wide eyes and beautiful, delicate features. I’m painfully average. Not small and cute, but not tall enough to be an amazonian beauty, either. My hair is thick and long, but it’s a mousy blonde, and my eyes are more gray than blue.