Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 132892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
“Thought you liked the young ones,” Pic commented dryly.
He was right, but a few minutes talking to Tinker had reminded me how nice it was to hang with a more mature woman for once. She’d been into me, but she’d been all business, too—no bullshit games . . . just amazing curves combined with hard work and a brain.
I’d taken a few minutes to stalk her on my phone in between clearing out squirrel corpses.
Impressive woman. The tea shop portion of her business was obviously just a storefront, with the bulk of her operation centered on gourmet chocolates she made herself. They were sold in shops all over Seattle, Tacoma, and Portland. So far as I could tell, business was booming.
Talia, on the other hand, didn’t do any real work at all. Not only that, the little twat was skinny and skanky and had a mouth on her that made me flinch, which was sayin’ a lot.
“Talia isn’t just young,” I said. “The bitch never shuts up, and all she does is whine. Everyone’s out to get her, nobody understands her, and her shit doesn’t stink. She’d last maybe five minutes out at the Armory before her ass got banned permanently. I cannot fucking believe that the Nighthawk brothers have put up with her this long.”
“Well, take her out tonight and see if you can get an intro to one of them. Better yet, get an invite to their clubhouse and see for yourself what’s really happening out there. They’re bringing in new brothers like crazy right now—standards are probably low enough to let someone like you through the door.”
“Usually I’d take that as an insult,” I replied, snorting. “But I probably deserve it right now. You’ll never guess what I spent my day doing.”
“Knitting,” he said flatly. “I think we all know you have a secret love of the womanly arts. I’m assuming you’re working on a nice motorcycle cozy for my Christmas present? You know, something to go with the embroidered Reapers pillow you gave me last year?”
I closed my eyes, counting to ten. Don’t engage. That’ll just make him happy. The dick.
“I spent the day on a roof repairing an air conditioner. It was a thousand degrees up there—fucking tar melted all over everything.”
“Why the hell would you do that?”
“Because I’ve got a new job. Maintenance for one Tinker Garrett. She owns an apartment building, and in exchange for doing some work around the place, I’ll have a place to stay, park my truck, all that good shit.”
“Sounds like a great cover,” Picnic said. “Gives you a reason to stick around town, not to mention saving some cash.”
“Yup. She bought my story about the divorce. I thought convincing Talia might be a problem, but she hasn’t even bothered to ask why an independent trucker would suddenly move to a town in the middle of nowhere. Too busy talking about herself.”
“You really don’t like her, do you?”
“What gave it away?”
Picnic snorted again.
“Anyway, I think we’re on track. Only one complication. Well, aside from the fact that they’ll probably kill me if they figure out I’m a Reaper.”
“What’s that?”
“Talia Jackson may be a total cunt, but Tinker Garrett is looking damned fuckable. It’s distracting.”
“You’ve got the hots for the landlady?” Picnic asked, and I could practically see the shit-eating grin on his face. “That’s fuckin’ hysterical. Club’s worst player is cock-blocked by duty to his brothers . . . Brings a tear to my eye, Gage. Really does. I’ll be sure to tell everyone, make sure they understand the depths of your dick’s sacrifice.”
“This is why nobody likes you,” I said, reaching up to scratch the back of my neck as the asshole laughed. I caught a whiff under my arm in the process and flinched. “Jesus Christ, but I stink. Gonna head back to the hotel and get cleaned up before I have to see Her Bitchness tonight.”
“Have fun with that,” Picnic replied. “And save your receipts. Club’ll cover the cost of your condoms.”
“You’re a giver, boss. Inspiration to us all.”
“You love me and you know it.”
“Let’s just say I have strong feelings and leave it at that.”
Fucker was still laughing when I hung up on him.
• • •
It was nearly ten that night before I showed my face at the bar. I’d arranged to meet Talia there, and while I definitely wanted her thinking I was into her, I didn’t want to make it too easy. It was like fishing—always a mistake to try reeling them in the first time they nibble the bait. It’s better to let them get a good taste and then set the hook.
Jack’s Roadhouse was like every other small-town dive I’d ever been in—populated almost entirely by locals, ranging in age from the newly minted twenty-one-year-olds (or at least those who’d managed to get fake IDs, although in a town this small it was more about plausible deniability than anything else) to a few old men who had to be in their seventies. The music was classic rock, the beer was strictly domestic, and the battered tables had seen better days. Wasn’t a half-bad place, though—people seemed to be enjoying themselves, and there were some girls on the dance floor strutting their stuff.