Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 42549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 213(@200wpm)___ 170(@250wpm)___ 142(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 213(@200wpm)___ 170(@250wpm)___ 142(@300wpm)
“Uh uh,” I said firmly, shaking my head. “Kelly, he’s all yours. I don’t need this shit today.”
“Oh, I think you do,” he said, eyes hard. He stood up slowly and walked toward me, dominating the room. “We got unfinished business.”
I swallowed, eyes darting toward the leather vest he wore. Boonie had joined the Silver Bastards motorcycle club right after he got out of the Marines. He’d never been an easygoing guy, but his time in the service made him tougher. Meaner. Mix that with his club affiliation and suddenly you had some real potential for ugliness . . .
Did Farell owe the MC money? Probably.
Shit.
“Okay, let’s go,’’ I said, my voice shaking. Once upon a time he hadn’t scared me. Times change. “C’mon through. Room three.”
Kelly cleared her throat nervously.
“I’ll be out here. Just let me know if you need anything, Darcy. Sign says we reserve the right to refuse service.” She glared at Boonie, reminding me why I loved her so much. Was Boonie hot? Absolutely. But Kelly would always put a friend ahead of a pretty face. Not that he was pretty, exactly . . . he was a little too rugged for that. Even more rugged since he’d broken his nose.
Don’t pay attention to what he looks like! Been there, done that. It didn’t end well, remember?
“It’s all good,” I told her, although I wasn’t exactly confident. “He’ll behave, won’t you Boonie?”
He gave me a chin lift and I knew he had no intention of behaving. I had a pretty good idea why he was waiting for me today—it had nothing to do with therapeutic massage. Shit. How long would Farell’s baggage weigh me down?
“Come on back,’’ I told him. “Third room on the left.”
Holding the waiting room door open, I gestured for him to walk through. I hadn’t seen him for three months at least. We’d run into each other occasionally in Callup, but I’d been avoiding town since I left Farell.
My new life was here in Coeur d’Alene and I liked it that way.
Boonie stepped through the door and started down the hall. I didn’t deliberately look at his ass, I swear. But as he strolled past me I couldn’t help myself. His jeans hugged his heavy thighs, cradling a world class butt I’d never gotten to fully explore. Tight and muscular, not big but not flat, either. Throw in the broad shoulders and aura of control, and there wasn’t a woman on earth who wouldn’t spontaneously ovulate when she saw him.
Unfortunately, covering that strong, broad back of his was a leather vest with a miner’s skull and the words “Silver Bastards MC,” branding him as someone I should avoid at all costs.
Everyone knew the Silver Bastards were into some shady shit—I’d learned growing up that when they came to the trailer park for a “talk” with someone, it was best to go inside and pretend you hadn’t seen anything. If you left them alone, they wouldn’t bother you. If Boonie said we had unfinished business, that could only mean one thing.
My soon-to-be ex-husband must owe them a lot more money than I realized.
I shouldn’t be surprised. He spent most of his days gambling, and not even Renee could keep making excuses after they repossessed the car. He’d been lying to them as much as he lied to me. When his folks finally cut him off—after I left, for the record—he’d panicked.
For the first time in his life, Farell Evans was having to take full responsibility for himself and he didn’t like it one bit.
Not that I cared. I was over his shit—now I just needed to convince the club that I had nothing to offer them. Boonie had been a friend, once upon a time. Maybe I could persuade him to show me mercy?
He stepped into my tiny massage room and I followed, closing the door silently behind us. His oversized presence filled the entire space. Seeing him here was unnatural and out of place—Boonie belonged in the wild, or at the very least in the kind of establishment that could erupt into a bar fight at any time. Not in a small, dim room with a massage table and aromatherapy candles.
Best to face him straight up.
“How much does he owe?” I asked, crossing my arms. Boonie cocked his head, studying me. Silence filled the air and I swallowed. “Whatever Farell borrowed from the club, it’s his problem. I moved out three months ago. We may not be divorced yet, but it’s definitely over and I have nothing to do with his finances. We never even had a joint checking account and my name’s not on anything.”
“What makes you think I’m here to collect money?”
I snorted. “Right, you’re here for a massage? Come off it, Boonie. If the club wants cash from Farell, great. Go talk to him about it. I’ve got nothing—I didn’t even take my engagement ring when I left. He’s probably pawned it by now.’’