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)
“Scrapper, this is Meghan. Meghan, Scrapper. He’s one of the guys I told you about. The ones who invited us.”
Scrapper nods, and my heart does a little flip when he throws his arm over my shoulder instead of moving closer to her. “Nice to meetcha. You ladies coming in, or are you going to stand out here all night?”
Meghan takes one look at us and her eyebrows go up. She pulls her phone out of her purse. “Actually, I was just telling Mila that she has to go without me. I… um, I forgot about something important I have to do. You’ll look out for her, right, Scrapper?”
He runs his fingers through the ends of my hair, twisting them up a little in a way that makes me all melty. “Won’t let her out of my fucking sight.”
“Are you sure?” I really want to go in, but I’m a strong believer in the buddy system when it comes to parties.
“Absolutely. Look, there’s a car right around the corner.” She holds up her taxi app. “I’ll see you back at the apartment, okay? Text me later to check in.”
“I will,” I yell at her back as she hurries to find her ride.
Scrapper pulls me towards the club. “Her loss. Come on. Mack and Reaper are waiting. We were hoping you wouldn’t chicken out.”
One of the guys at the gate gives a little head nod as we walk up. “You need a hand with her, man?” He reaches into his sleeve and I hear a click before he tosses something at us.
“Shut the fuck up, Ripper.” Scrapper says with a laugh, snatching whatever it is out of the air and flipping it right back to him.
I gape as Ripper catches the metal claw prosthetic with his good hand and clicks it back onto his other arm.
He winks. “It’s for the best. Faith isn’t really into sharing.”
“Your old lady not at the party?”
Ripper shakes his head. “Nah. That’s why I took gate duty. She’s watching Damien so Eagle-eye can let loose with Miriam tonight. Her birthday and all.”
I’m only half paying attention, too distracted by finally getting my first real look inside the massive walled compound. The gate opens up into a center courtyard that I’ve seen glimpses of from the outside, but everything feels at least twice as big up close. There’s a workshop to the side, where they can work on their bikes, but the courtyard is dominated by the massive warehouse with the Screaming Eagles MC logo right in front of us. The compound takes up a full city block, and there are bits of road remaining, and closely built houses that look like they’re from about the same time as the rest of South Side. The bikers have made plenty of changes, though. It’s like an independent town inside the city.
People are everywhere, mostly bikers, with beer in their hands and women hanging off their arms. I feel downright overdressed compared to a lot of them. Last year I would have dared to show more skin, but even in the summer heat I can’t bring myself to show my leg, not yet. I’m not exactly embarrassed by my scars, but when they’re visible, I feel like everyone is looking, and even the brush of air against the fresh skin is too much. Instead, I settled on bootcut jeans that hug my waist and thighs without pressing on my calf, and a sleeveless crop top with a ripped v-neck that shows off some belly and cleavage.
Most of the other girls are wearing booty shorts or micro miniskirts. They might as well be in bikinis while they dance and cling to the guys, clearly not caring that everyone can tell they are here for a good time. The front of the clubhouse is one step away from being an open air orgy.
I plaster myself to Scrapper’s side. Maybe I should have gone home with Meghan after all. A big hand falls on my shoulder, making me jump.
“Hey, beautiful.” It's Mack, grinning at me through his rich beard. “Reaper fucking owes us. I told him she’d show.” He's wearing his club vest this time, with a white tank underneath, and… wow. No wonder his T-shirt was struggling. Those biceps aren't pythons, they're anacondas.
I am so far out of my league here, but I’ve never let that stop me before. I lick my lips and swallow. “Were you guys betting on if I’d come or not?”
“Sweetheart, bet or no bet, if you’re here? You’ll definitely come,” Scrapper whispers into my ear.
The gasp I let out is less than dignified, but I don’t have time to be embarrassed because Scrapper distracts me by pulling off his t-shirt and tucking it into the waist of his jeans. He’s less bulky than Mack, but nobody could possibly mistake him for being weak. And…