Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 132332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
“Sunshine, do you bring us good news?” Sparky calls out with a bleary smile.
Well, I guess he’s not driving anywhere.
“Carter’s friend is at our house, and I was looking for someone to go pick her up,” I explain as I walk closer. “I don’t have a vehicle up here and—”
“Teller didn’t want you going anywhere,” Stash reminds me. “You’re on lockdown.”
“I can go.” Swan raises her hand even though she’s only a few feet away from me. “I’ve met Bianca before.”
I hate asking her to do something that’s really my responsibility. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
She tips her head toward Sparky and Stash. “I think I’m your only option.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ll ride shotgun.” Stash slaps her leg and stands, holding out his hand to pull her off the couch.
“Great.” Swan barely holds back an eye roll. “We’ll be right back, Charlotte.”
Feeling a bit awkward now that it’s just Sparky and me, I stand next to the couch, absently staring at the television but not registering what’s on the screen.
“Pull up a cushion, Sunshine.” Sparky pats the couch. “I’m harmless.”
“I know that.” Fear of Sparky wasn’t stopping me. I force a quick smile. “I’m tired and worried and—”
“Out of sorts?”
“Yes.” I drop onto the couch and sink into the cushion. Tears prickle my eyelids. “I’m so scared. I should’ve done something more to protect him.”
He blows out a slow stream of smoke, then neatly stubs his blunt into an ashtray. “Char, we all know you take good care of your brother. He’s a grown-ass man, though.”
“He’s still my little brother.”
He squeezes his eyes shut. “You and Teller really are a cosmic match. I’m so thankful the universe brought you two together.”
I can’t help chuckling. “Me too.”
“Rock won’t stop ‘til he gets Carter back.” He curves his arms over his head like a giant umbrella. “He’s the glue that keeps us whole. The shelter that protects us.”
“That’s an awfully heavy burden to place on one man.”
Sparky cocks his head like he never considered that. “But it’s his calling. And now he has his peace to recharge him when we drain his batteries.”
“Hope?”
He nods solemnly. “Mother of Kings.”
Harsh laughter bursts out of me and I slap my hand over my mouth to contain it. “Does she know that’s her new purpose in life?”
“Of course she does,” he answers like it’s obvious.
“What’s your role, then?”
He surveys the clubhouse with narrowed eyes as if the answer might be found in the fireplace, behind the bar, or up the stairs. “The trickster of healing.”
“There’s more depth to you than just a trickster.”
“I didn’t go with them because I wouldn’t be helpful,” he says, ignoring my comment. “Just so you know. It wasn’t because I don’t care about Carter.”
My throat tightens. It seems really important to him that I understand this point.
“I’d get in the way and probably make things worse.” His bloodshot eyes slip to the side.
I reach over and squeeze his hand. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“I’ll help medicate Carter when he gets here too.”
My nose stings but I force the tears away. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate that.”
I can’t force any hint of humor into my words. I’m too damn scared Carter might not come home.
CHAPTER FORTY
Teller
“What is it?” Rock’s harsh, angry whisper breaks through my trance.
I don’t have an answer for him, though.
He reaches my side and stares at the body twisting in the breeze. “Christ.”
My heart kicks a painful thump. Not giving a fuck who might be lying in wait to shoot me, I take off, jogging down the hill toward the hanging body.
“Marcel. Fuck.” Rock’s heavy footsteps pound behind me. “Wait.”
My steps slow as I get closer. Something about the body isn’t right. It’s too puffy, the limbs bobbing in the wind instead of hanging limp.
Relief pumps through my veins. It’s not Carter.
“Is it a…” Murphy steps forward, craning his neck. “A blow-up sex doll?”
“Fucking psychos.” I don’t dare take out my flashlight and shine it. I can make out enough details without turning us into an easy target.
A crude mustache and beard have been scribbled onto the face of the doll, in an effort to give it a masculine appearance. Goober is spelled across the doll’s forehead in thick block letters that remind me of the box that had been addressed to Charlotte. Whether it’s meant to be an insult or someone’s actual road name, I’m not sure.
Rock’s face locks into a grim scowl as he studies the doll. “It’s wearing an S.O.S. cut.”
My gaze slips lower. More black marker had been used to draw a replica of the Sons of Satan MC colors. “Traitor” is scrawled in red across the chest of the doll.
“A threat? A warning to other members?” Murphy asks.
“Who fucking knows.” Rock kicks at an empty beer can on the ground. The area’s littered with cans, broken bottles, cigarette butts and other trash.