Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 115186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
“Did you only come over to rehash this? If so, I’m going to tell you, you made things tense for me at work today. I told you to stay out of it and you didn’t. I could’ve gotten fired. I’m sure Roger seriously considered it. Oh wait. You know how I know that he did? He told me at least a half dozen times that I’m ‘lucky’ he didn’t fire me.”
That asshole needed to be taught a lesson… More like Smith needed a beat down. “Worried about you.”
“Don’t be. I’ve survived working there for over a year now. How he acts isn’t new. He’s been like this from the start. Anyway, it’s not only me, he treats everyone like shit. It’s the whole reason there’s a high turnover rate.”
“Surprised nobody snapped and cut the bitch.”
She raised both eyebrows at him. “Could it be because doing so is illegal? In case you’re unaware, stabbing someone is a crime, being an asshole isn’t…” Her lips twitched. “Or you’d be doing life behind bars.”
Once again, she had jokes. “You sayin’ I’m an asshole?”
“Am I wrong? Didn’t you say that men are dicks?”
She wasn’t wrong.
“Luckily,” she continued, “I’m used to dealing with men with egos bigger than a hot air balloon.”
“You been in one?” He’d need to be knocked the fuck out first before stepping into what looked like a wicker picnic basket attached to a huge balloon that couldn’t be steered or stopped.
Fuck that shit.
“No, but bikers tend to be full of hot air.”
“Ain’t blowin’ any hot air. You give me the okay to rough that motherfucker up in a dark alley one night, gonna do that.”
“I’d prefer you avoid committing crimes on my behalf.”
“Just sayin’.”
“While I appreciate your dedication to being my personal Batman, I’m good, Rome. If you go to prison, don’t expect me to visit.”
“Wouldn’t even put any scratch on my books?”
“Nope.”
He raised one eyebrow. “No conjugal visits?”
She shook her head. “Definitely not.”
“Not even a phone call?”
Using the universal hand sign for a phone, she placed it to her ear. “New phone, who dis?”
He almost spat out his mouthful of chili. Wasting any of it would be the true crime.
The woman had a sense of humor, was smart, could cook, was more than easy on the eyes, responsive as fuck in bed and knew the MC life…
She’d be perfect if he was looking for someone to wear his cut.
He wasn’t. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy some of those assets on the list.
Even though Smith didn’t fire her… “What happened after I left?”
“I was written up. Again.”
What the fuck? “For what?”
“Making a mess out on the floor. With both the peach,” she bugged out her eyes at him, “and you.”
“Wrote you up. That it?”
“He also docked my pay.”
He fucking did what? “Can he do that?”
“He can do whatever he wants since he owns the place. I’ve been told many times that if I don’t like the way he runs things, I can leave.”
Romeo agreed that she should leave. “You should.”
“Thanks for confirming where you stand,” she raised a finger and added, “on something that doesn’t concern you.”
With his jaw tight, he closed his eyes and pulled in a breath. He wasn’t backing off on this. But he realized in the future, he’d need to keep both his thoughts and actions about it secret.
“Heartburn?”
“Not from the chili,” he muttered.
“Is it because I won’t kowtow to you?”
“Kowtow? That some kinda new sexual fetish I don’t know about? ‘Cause I’m game for new shit.”
Her spoon scraped the bottom of her bowl as she finished the last of her chili. “For most bikers, it’s not a new fetish.”
This was news to him. “It involve bondage or somethin’?”
“Sort of. But not in the way you’re thinking.”
“Fuckin’ explain, then.”
She shrugged and set her spoon in her now empty bowl. “Bikers tend to like their women submissive. They want them to do whatever they say.”
He stared at her. “Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me? You might not know any of the Knights’ ol’ ladies, but you damn well know the Fury’s and probably most of the Angels’. How many of their ol’ ladies are fuckin’ submissive? How many of them talk back to their ol’ man?”
He was spitting out facts she couldn’t deny. The only ol’ lady he knew was truly submissive to her man was Syn. But that was more of a sexual dynamic between the two. “Even Dodge don’t stop Syn from havin’ an opinion and sharin’ it. So, not sure where you get that submissive bullshit.”
“What about the sweet butts? They have to do what any of you demand.”
“But they ain’t…” It was probably better if they dropped this conversation. He wanted to get laid tonight. If this discussion went sideways, that might not happen.
“Aren’t what?” she prodded. “Women with valid thoughts and feelings?”
“No one’s forcin’ anyone to be a goddamn sweet butt. Their choice. They don’t like it, they can leave.”