Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
“Is that all you fuckers got?”
Coop’s smile disappears, and he turns to Ace.
“We’re gonna have to give Shades Sundays off so he can escort his new girlfriend to church.”
He looks to me, lips twitching with the effort of keeping a straight face. “Will you be expected to attend Sunday dinner with the family too?”
They all erupt in laughter, and I roll my eyes. “All right, that’s enough. We need to talk about what the fuck we’re going to do about Hector and his crew.”
Ace nods. “I’m not thrilled about those fuckers hanging around the church. Were you followed?”
“Nope. Took the long way just to be sure, and I was outside half the time talking with Braden. Didn’t see or hear them pull up at all, but them showing up can’t be a coincidence.”
“Agreed,” Ace says. “If they didn’t follow you there, they must be up to something. Now they know we’re connected to the church, it’ll be a target.”
“Which means our money will be a target,” Coop says angrily. “We need a security detail at the church.”
“Not yet,” Ace says and looks around the room at each of us. “We can’t talk about this shit here with customers coming in and out.”
“Back to church,” I growl and shake my head.
“A little church is good for the soul,” Preacher says with a smile and puts a supportive hand on my shoulder. “Come on, at least you don’t have to worry about this church cleansing away your sins.”
“Sins? I’m a perfect fucking angel,” I shoot back as we all spill out of the rear exit of Ace Motors. The sun is gone completely, all streaks of gold and red have disappeared from the sky, and the air is considerably cooler.
“I’m right behind you,” I tell Ace. “I walked over from the clubhouse.”
Ace nods, starts his bike, and the rest of the guys follow him.
Almost.
I turn to find Nova staring at me, studying me carefully, and I don’t like it.
“What the fuck?”
“You’re holding yourself weird, and your gait is off. What else hurts?”
I roll my eyes because goddamn, with all the worry and caretaking today. “I’m fine, Doc.”
“Are you?”
I stare at him for a long minute before I give him a short, hard nod.
“I’ll race you over. Loser buys a steak dinner with as much whiskey as we can drink.” Nova crouches down in starting position. “Ready?”
I let out a frustrated sigh. “I took a few kicks to the ribs.”
Without asking permission, he lifts my shirt and frowns. “That’s more than a few kicks. Trouble breathing?”
“Nope, just a fuck ton of pain. Nothing some whiskey won’t cure.”
He smiles. “Whiskey isn’t a cure for broken ribs,” he tells me while his hands examine each rib carefully.
“Nothing feels broken, but you’ll hurt like hell for a few days. Want something more than over-the-counter painkillers?”
“Nope. I’m good.”
“Fine,” he says and steps back. “How slow do you think we can walk before Ace gets pissed off?”
I flash a conspiratorial smile. “Only one way to find out.” We take our time getting to the clubhouse, and when we arrive at church, we’re met with some angry glares.
“Real fucking funny, guys,” Coop snarls. “Some of us have shit to do.”
Nova points to me, and I think he’s about to sell me out. “He’s got some severely bruised ribs, and I insisted on checking them out. My bad.”
Ace nods, but I see the knowing look that flashes in his eyes, and I know he’ll call me on it later.
“Now that you’re both here, I can tell you what’s been decided.”
I swallow around a sudden lump in my throat because I know he’ll assign me a shit job I won’t like.
Chapter Nine
Letty
After a restless night of sleep with dreams that not even my journal gets to know about, I take my time picking out an outfit for work.
Maybe it’s the dreams about the biker with the stunning green eyes and the tattoos, or maybe it’s something else, but today I want to change up my appearance. I’ll never be the kind of girl, no, the kind of woman who wears short skirts and flashy tops that show off my breasts, but that doesn’t mean I still need to dress like a twelve-year-old choir girl.
Or does the way I live my life mean that’s exactly how I should dress?
Am I really changing my look for a man who is all wrong for me? Shades is handsome and charismatic, sure, but he’s also a criminal. The kind of man who people follow around and beat up. He’s the kind of man who gets into fights in church parking lots. He probably doesn’t even believe in God.
Who am I to judge?
That’s the question I pose to myself as I stare at my reflection. What right do I have to judge Shades for his life choices? It isn’t my place, and I don’t know his story, but I do know he served in the Marines. Maybe he has PTSD or did something he can’t live with, and that’s why he’s chosen this path.