Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76082 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76082 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
"And a lap dance," yells one of her friends which makes my normally very forward little sister blush like a tomato.
"And a lap dance," she agrees, nodding in embarrassment.
I look around us, not seeing any sign of male strippers. I bet the guys here loved that show. As long as it wasn't more than that, I don't even care. She's an adult. I just don't want Sandra to fall back on the habits that she's worked so hard to beat. She's had a life no teenager should've gone through. We both have.
"I'm taking you home, okay?"
She nods. "Yeah. I'm sorry I lost track of time. Jerry was supposed to drive, but he had a couple of beers. I swear I didn't know we were going to a bar, not until we were already here."
"I'm proud of you for calling." I take her hand to pull her with me, as we head back up into the main bar.
She blinks at me like I'm crazy. "But—"
"But nothing. Well… I’m not thrilled you still have your fake ID, but—”
“There you are. Didn’t think I’d find you back here but can’t say I’m sorry I did.”
I barely have time to recognize the speaker as the long-haired biker from the door before I find myself in his arms. His hand slides into my hair and the next thing I know, his lips are on mine. Adrenaline surges, and instead of fight of flight, my stressed brain finally gives up and goes straight to fuck.
My eyes shut, and a little gasp slips out as his tongue slides along mine. A strong hand lands on my lower back, and pulls me straight into his big, muscular body. He tastes like whiskey and sex, and the smell of leather fills my lungs. My core heats like a nuclear reactor heading for a meltdown.
"Natalie?” Sandra asks, sounding equal parts amused and startled.
I come to my senses wrapped in a biker. “Stop!”
He pulls back, eyes lidded and his smile sexy and self-satisfied. “You ready to dance?”
“Not that kind!”
He chuckles. “Well, you know where to find me if you change your mind.”
"That won’t be happening,” I say with more confidence than I feel. My knees are wobbly, and I can still taste him on my lips. I grab Sandra’s hand and pull her out of there before anything else happens. To either of us.
"You okay?" she asks as we get into my beat-up junker of a car.
"Fine!" It starts on the second try, and then we're pulling out.
"He seemed nice."
"Don't care."
"And he was pretty hot," she adds slyly.
The ridiculousness of it finally breaks through, and I can't help but laugh. "Yeah, fine. He was."
"Thanks for picking me up. I love you. Now I know there's nothing you won't do to keep me safe, including kissing a biker." She chuckles.
"Yeah. I love you too. Now let's get you home, okay? Tomorrow’s my day off, but you have work in the morning."
When I go to sleep, I think about how nice it is to have my sister back. It was really rough for a couple of years, and I wasn’t sure it would ever happen. But my dreams are full of bikers, especially a scarred, long-haired one kissing me senseless.
2
NATALIE
"A hundred thousand dollars?"
Even with the cold steel barrel of a gun pressing underneath my chin so hard it hurts, I can't keep in my shock. I’m happy when my balance is over four digits at the end of the month. If I had a hundred grand sitting around I wouldn’t be sharing this one bedroom apartment with my sister.
“You can say it all you want. It won’t change anything,” one of them says with an ugly sneer.
Why did I even open the door when they knocked? I’ve warned Sandra about it so many times, but I was expecting her home and she forgets her keys all the time. The last thing I expected was to get jumped and have a gun pulled on me.
There's four of them, and each one is scarier than the last. Big, dirty and nasty. A minute ago, it smelled like the cupcakes I have in the oven, but now all I can smell is motor oil and sweat off the guy holding the gun to my head.
I think they're bikers. I’m no expert, but they have the same sort of look as the people at the bar last weekend. But these guys don’t look dangerously sexy, just dangerous. They’re wearing muddy motorcycle boots, dirty jeans, and beat up vests covered in patches. "Unwanted" it says across their backs. Is that their club?
I try to focus on the details in case I need to give a statement later, but in this city? It would go straight in the trash as soon as I was done. Everyone knows who runs this town, and it’s not the elected authorities.