Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69993 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69993 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
“I do,” Ace confirms. “It wasn’t this MC, which is how I know Frank is alive, but without us, he won’t be for long.”
Gia accepts the half-truth and hands the napkin to Ace. “That’s the account number. We done here?”
“You don’t need to look it up?”
“I have a head for numbers.”
“Well, how about that? Yeah, we’re done. Thanks for your help, Gia.”
“Whatever, Ace,” she says in a tired voice and stands up, taking the fresh drink from Coop and gulping it down.
“Get her home safe,” Ace orders.
I nod and stand to follow Gia.
“See if you can thaw her a little,” Coop suggests.
I nod and find Gia resting against my bike with a cigarette between her lips.
“Terrible habit.”
“Yeah,” she grunts. “I’m full of terrible habits.” She steps back and waits for me to get on the bike. When I do, Gia tosses the cigarette butt, stomps on it, and hops on. She’s less handsy than before, which I both hate and appreciate.
It’s not easy to ride a bike this size with a cock as hard as steel, and the way her hands roamed my body on the way over had been sweet blissful torture.
As soon as I park the bike in front of her house, Gia dismounts like she’s been on a bike forever.
“Thanks again for earlier,” she says, her fire gone.
“No problem. Call me if you find yourself in trouble, Gia.”
She lets out a huff of laughter. “You want to be my designated bodyguard, Preacher Man?” Her words are full of disbelief, but she unlocks her phone and hands it over anyway.
“Not designated, but I’m someone you can count on.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that before. Look, you seem like a decent guy, Preach. Let’s not ruin the image with promises you can’t keep.”
I get off the bike and stand right in front of this prickly woman, close enough that she has to look up to see my face. I let her study me and my expression because, for some reason, I want this woman to know that she can trust me.
I won’t be another man, another person in her life, who lets her down.
I press a kiss to her cheek, letting my lips linger for a long moment before they brush against her ear. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep, Gia. Not now. Not ever.”
She lets out a shaky breath, and I know I’ve gotten to her because, for the first time all day, she drops the guard from her honey-brown eyes as she looks up at me.
“Time will tell,” she says and saunters up the stairs before disappearing into the house.
I wait until the upstairs light comes on, scan the block, and then head back to the clubhouse where Ace is waiting with a report.
“Well?”
“She doesn’t trust me yet, but she’s starting to. I think once she starts to put all the pieces together, she’ll help us.”
“And if she won’t?” Coop asks the question, but I know Ace is curious too.
“She will,” I assure them both. “As soon as she realizes Frank is the reason the Kings are on her trail, she’ll help us.”
Ace offers me a beer, and when I decline, he sits it between him and Coop. “You’re sure?”
I nod. “She might not like it, but Gia isn’t stupid. After the shit show today at her house, she knows we’re her best chance of staying clear of becoming the Kings’ property.”
Ace nods. “Just stay close to her.”
Like I have any other choice in the matter.
Chapter Eleven
Gia
As soon as the roar of Preacher’s motorcycle fades, I take a hot shower to wash off the stink of that old bitch at the Reckless Souls clubhouse, but mostly to clear my mind.
Even though Ace didn’t say much or give away anything, his questions told me a lot. If I read between the lines, that is.
The most important thing is that the Iron Kings are the bad guys. The Reckless Souls are not. The Kings must’ve been the ones who set Frank’s church on fire, though that leads to a million more questions on my part.
Questions that Ace probably won’t answer, meaning Preacher won’t either. Mom doesn’t even know who Frank really is, so she’s out as any kind of a source too. But my fingers are my most trusted asset next to my brain, and I can probably find many of the answers I need on my own.
I grab my laptop and toss it on the bed, my curiosity ramped up. “I need to think,” I say out loud to myself and scan the room until I find what I’m looking for.
The stash of coke I keep taped behind one of the computer science trophies from high school is still there. Thank you, Frank Braden. Even if you are an asshole.
I grab the mirror inside my nightstand and take a couple bumps before I settle in to do some research.