Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
“It’s early days yet,” Kincaid says. “I’m not telling you any of this because I want you on notice that some of you may be leaving. I don’t want to lose a single guy here, but I also won’t stop anyone from leaving if they feel like they would be better suited working domestic jobs rather than ones outside of the US borders.”
Kincaid looks around the room, and I know he’s well aware of every single man’s history on his team. He probably already has an idea of who might request to leave and who would rather stay.
Honestly, it’s much too soon for me to know that answer for myself.
“Where are you looking?” Hound asks again, his question still unanswered from the first round.
“Florida, California, Georgia, Ohio, and Texas have the highest trafficking cases,” Kincaid answers.
“Five new branches of Cerberus?” Legacy asks.
Kincaid holds his hands up when a rumble of chatter runs through the group.
“We can’t go that big. It would be too much to handle, much too quickly. We’re considering going east, landing somewhere in the middle of those three states. That’s all the info we have right now. When we know more, we’ll share that information with you. Any questions or concerns about today’s run?”
His last question is the redirection, making it known the conversation on a new branch of Cerberus has been curbed.
No one speaks up about the toy run. We know what we’re supposed to do on that front.
We all start shuffling out of the garage, and I head back into the clubhouse to get Beth. Instead of finding her in the bedroom, I hear her voice from the kitchen before I can turn down the hallway.
She’s grinning at Misty, Shadow’s wife, and, for the briefest of seconds, I’m a little jealous not to have been involved in whatever made her smile.
Chapter 16
Beth
I pull in a deep breath, telling myself that it isn’t kismet, that I didn’t feel him enter the room. Misty looked up at the doorway, and that’s how I knew someone had joined us in the kitchen.
I smile at him over my shoulder, and, my God, how is he the handsomest guy I’ve ever met? I can’t attribute anything to luck because I don’t own the man. The simple, matching gold rings on our hands don’t mean what they should.
He notices the second my smile drops away, and I hate that I can’t always control my face.
I’m not disappointed in him in any way, but what if I’ve jinxed my life? What if there’s a chance that pretending with him somehow leads to ruining my fate for the rest of my life?
What if I meet the man I’m supposed to spend eternity with while in a fake marriage with him?
“I see you’re ready,” he says as he approaches, holding his hands out to me before I can get too lost in my head.
I look down at my thick sweater and jeans.
“I don’t exactly have motorcycle boots,” I tell him with a frown.
“Those look like boots to me,” he says, taking a step back and motioning toward the nearly knee-high boots I’m wearing.
“They don’t have bad ass chains and buckles.”
He huffs a laugh. “I think what you have is great, but if you want new—”
“No,” I say, shaking my head.
I can’t end up owing this guy anything. It will only make things more awkward when it ends. There’s nothing worse than breaking something off and then having to come back weeks later with a handful of this pays you back for the things you bought me cash.
Gross. No thank you.
“You’re missing something,” he tells me, pressing his lips to my cheek before scurrying from the room.
“That man is smitten with you,” Misty tells me.
I huff a humorless laugh before I can catch myself. I hate lying to people. Lies are always so hard to keep up with.
“What?” she asks, her smile wide when I turn back to look at her.
“Smitten?” I ask.
She waves me off with a hand. “I don’t know what you kids are calling it these days.”
I give her a smile. I’m nearly thirty, far from being a kid, but she’s definitely closer to my mom’s generation than mine.
“Here,” Derrick says when he reenters the room with a leather jacket in his hands.
I turn and let him slide it up my arms before settling it on my shoulders.
“It’s heavy,” I tell him.
“It’s for protection. Despite the warmth you feel right now, the wind will cut right through that once we get on the road.”
“Thank you,” I tell him, reaching to the bottom of the jacket and zipping it up. “Do I look like a biker babe?”
His eyes dip down the front of me in a way he shouldn’t be looking at me in mixed company but he doesn’t seem to care.
“Smoking hot, sweetheart. Let’s go.”