Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“In the parking garage. Where’s your bike?”
The woman looked as if they were best friends about to go on a joyride. Stump wondered if Zoey had the same fascination with pot as Penni did. Only someone as high as a kite would mistake him for a friend.
“In front of the building. I’ll meet you at the garage’s exit.”
“Okay.” The woman looked so happy for the mundane task that Stump figured Zoey had fired one up when she went back to her office.
As he watched Hannibal walk off with Zoey without looking back, jealousy had his jaw clenching.
From the second that he had seen Hannibal’s head poking out of the box that Ice carried into the clubhouse, he had claimed him by snatching him out of the box as soon as Ice set it down. Grace hadn’t wanted to part with the dog when he called her. It had taken Ice and him another month before she agreed, and he’d had to make numerous promises, which he kept until Tilda opened the door to a clusterfuck that he could tell he was going to have to deal with until hell froze over.
Ice’s and Jackal’s bikes were still parked next to his. He was dreading the brothers’ return to the club. They were going to take his failure to pacify Grace’s and Penni’s anger out on him.
Getting on his bike, he rode to the exit, and after several cars came out, he was mentally kicking his ass that he hadn’t asked what car she drove. When he saw a tiny neon blue, convertible electric car coming down the ramp, though, he didn’t have to peer closer to see that it was her.
Zoey had a big pair of sunglasses on, and Hannibal was sitting in the front seat next to her with the windows down. His dog looked ridiculous with the seatbelt around him. The damn thing looked ecstatic to be back with her. The bitch was ruining his dog.
Next time he went to the dog store, he was getting a cheaper bag of food for Hannibal’s traitorous behavior.
Zoey stopped the car to let him go ahead, and then he had to tighten his hands on the handlebars when she honked, letting him know she was following him, as if he couldn’t see that bright matchbox car in his rearview mirror. It was so small that he and Max could pick it up and carry it if she didn’t have enough charge to make it back from the clubhouse.
As they drove, several passing cars honked at Zoey. At first, he thought the blaring horns were because she was going too slow—he also had to slow down when she wasn’t able to keep up. But when he looked in his mirror, he saw that it was men trying to get her attention. She waved at them as if they were long-lost relatives of hers.
A red light had him braking. If she hadn’t been following him, he would have blown through when the light was still yellow.
“Hey, are you Zoey?”
A loud male voice had him shifting on his seat to see a car twice the size of hers stopped next to Zoey’s instead of edging forward.
“Yes!” She gave a blinding smile at the car that was getting angry honks for him to move further ahead.
“I recognized your license plate. I love your blogs. You saved my marriage. Is that the asshole who splashed you yesterday?”
“Uh… no.” Zoey’s smile faltered. “It was someone else.”
“It looks like the same helmet and bike. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of that asshole!”
“Wait!” Zoey called out, but the car beside her moved inched further onwards.
The Beamer edged next to Stump’s motorcycle “Yo, asshole!”
Stump looked over at the man who looked to be the size of a linebacker.
“You fuck with that little girl again, and I’m going to fuck you up!”
Stump was about to get off his bike and tell him to bring it when the light turned green. Then honking horns had him going despite wanting to jerk the linebacker out of his vehicle.
Zoey giving a jaunty wave to the wannabe vigilante had Stump wanting to pull over so that he could paddle her ass. He wasn’t a violent man where women were concerned, but she could make a saint lose his temper, and he was no fucking saint.
After waiting for two cars to drive by in the opposite lane, he drove into the clubhouse’s parking lot. What should have taken ten minutes on his bike took twenty at the speed he was having to go. Her car was moving so slow that a turtle could overtake her.
Screeching tires had him nearly plowing into the brothers’ bikes that were parked in front when Zoey dodged between a car and an oncoming semi. Stump nearly shit his drawers at watching her barely escape becoming roadkill.