Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 45515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
“Get on outta here, Rocket.” Ringo, my enforcer, stepped into the house, looking the small space up and down, eyeballing the damage as he did. “I’ll get a cleaning crew out here to take care of everything.”
“I don’t want so much as a fuckin’ pebble that doesn’t belong still here when this place is cleaned. Get Scrubb.”
“On it, Prez.” Ringo left to get started as I kicked the front tire of Falcon’s downed bike.
“Should be fine.”
Falcon glared at me, his face hard and a very unflattering shade of red under his beard. Lemon mumbled, but I still had my hand clamped over her mouth. When she stuck her tongue out and licked my hand, my first instinct was to pull away and wipe my hand down my jeans, but that was exactly what she wanted. Instead, I gave her a hard stare.
So she bit me.
“Goddamnit, Lemon!” I did jerk my hand away that time.
She stepped away from me, then turned and shoved me backward.
Falcon snorted. “Who the fuck cut her loose, anyway? She’ll probably wreck the whole fuckin’ club before she’s done.”
Lemon just shrugged, looking about as concerned as that old cartoon kitten sitting on a bulldog’s back. “I mean, it’s possible. Seems like you guys need a good swift kick in the balls. What better way to do that than through your bikes?”
Falcon actually growled and took a step forward, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. “You’re about two seconds from gettin’ an ass whuppin’, woman. Rocket won’t do it, I got no fuckin’ problem. Figure you owe me my pound of flesh for demolishing my bike.”
“Sweet Baby Jesus in the manger,” Lemon muttered. “I didn’t demolish your fuckin’ bike. It’s fine. Might need a new wheel on the front or something’s all. This club needs whippin’ into shape, Rocket. Is it full of pussies or is it just this clown?”
“Lemon --”
“No, Rocket.” She turned to face me, stabbing a finger in my chest none too gently. “They weren’t coming after you. They were going back to their ‘clubhouse’ to talk about it.” She made air quotes. She looked back at Falcon and gave him a derisive snort. “So, yeah. I can see some changes need to be made.”
“Go to the fuckin’ truck, Lemon.” I made a step, then barely suppressed a wince. I did clamp a hand over my side. Which is when my shoulder screamed at me. ‘Cause, you know, I’d been shot. I still tried to ignore it because the only way Lemon would have me was if I was a strong man. Right now, she probably didn’t see me as strong. At least, not in body.
“You go to the truck. You’re the one who’s shot!”
I saw it then. That vulnerability Lemon never showed anyone. The fact that I’d been shot bothered her more than she was willing to admit. Or, likely, than she wanted me to know.
“And you got kidnapped. And beaten,” I countered.
“How about you both go to the fuckin’ truck and let me get started on this fuckin’ cleanup before the turn of the next fuckin’ century?”
“Wow. Someone woke up cranky. Did you not get your full nap in?” I really thought Falcon was going to turn her over his knee. He actually took a threatening step forward, but Lemon didn’t back down. Instead, she met his gaze with her own steely one and took her own step forward, tilting her head to the side. “Come on, then. Give it your best shot. You get one.”
Falcon narrowed his eyes. “You’re playin’ with fire, woman.”
“And you’re not nearly as intimidating as you think you are.” She put her shoulders back and lifted her chin. The sun filtered through a window in the house and fell over her face, highlighting a reddish bruise darkening her cheek. Lemon hadn’t said anything about hurting, but I knew she’d taken more than a few hits. Especially during the fight when she’d used Falcon’s bike as a battering ram. “We’ll have it out. You and me.”
Yeah. That was it for me. Despite the pain settling in after the adrenaline started to wear off, my cock -- which had been at attention since the end of the fight -- felt like it had absorbed every single drop of blood in my fucking body. I ached with the need to claim this fierce, brash woman in front of the entire world so everyone would know she was mine and mine alone.
“I ain’t sure what you got goin’ on with Rocket, but you need to learn some respect for this club. And I hope and pray to every deity I can imagine that you ain’t stayin’ at Grim. You need to get your ass back to the Iron Tzars. Sting might tolerate shit like this in his outfit, but Grim Road? We don’t.”