Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Not having much choice, I jumped out the door, not even getting a chance to close it. It did so itself from the momentum as she peeled off.
That fucking woman.
That was pretty much the only thought that came to mind as I stood there watching her goddamned hearse pull away into the night.
"Yo, where the fuck you been?" Virgin's voice called from behind me. "And where is your bike?"
"Out on some back country road broken down," I told him, shaking my head. "Repo and I got split up, and he had my phone on him, so I couldn't call anyone."
"So an undertaker happened by to pick you up?"
I turned around to look at him, a smirk pulling at my lips. "You won't believe this shit. She's a fuckin' librarian."
"Drivin' a hearse."
"She's weird as shit," I agreed, following him as he moved toward the now open gates.
"How did the drop go?"
"No issues. Bunch of bangers in Passaic thinking they can take on the mob. Morons deserve what will be coming to them for making a move. But nothing to write home about."
"Sugar, heads up," Repo's voice called as soon as we walked inside, my phone flying through the air a second later. "What held you up?"
"Bike broke down. Got a ride back. Just gonna grab a cup of coffee, and Virgin and I will head back out to pick it up."
"See if Wolf or Reeve is around," he suggested, knowing they were the two with trucks and ramps. "I will take a look at it tomorrow if you can't figure out what it is right off."
"Thanks," I agreed, heading into the kitchen as I slid my phone unlocked.
The thing about being a biker who lived with his brothers ninety-nine percent of the time was... you didn't end up getting a lot of texts.
So the fact that I had four in a row from an unknown number, that was suspect.
Clicking over my messages, my eyes scanned the texts.
"Fuck," I hissed, looking over at Virgin who had known me since we were looking up skirts, so he stiffened immediately at my tone.
"Who is it?"
"Believe in ghosts, Virgin?" I asked, holding my phone out to him, watching as he read the messages, his body getting as tense as mine already was.
His gaze moved up to hold mine.
And he reiterated the word I felt down to my bones.
"Fuck."
THREE
Peyton
Believe it or not, I'd had weirder nights.
Many, in fact.
It had been a long time since I zoned out on the drive home - then the walk from the building parking lot to my door - because I was replaying what had just happened in my head.
Not the gay rave in the sticks either.
That was all but forgotten.
Well, sort off. Once I scrubbed off the body glitter and got off this goddamned thong that had been riding up so high, I could feel it in my damn throat.
But it wasn't the strobe lights and little baggies of X being handed around like candy that was on my mind.
It was a sexy, scarred biker whose eyes - as it turned out - were gray. Freaking gray. Who the hell had gray eyes? Like he wasn't already too darn good-looking.
I slipped inside my apartment, trying to shut the door quietly, not wanting to wake up the puppy - or the person crashing on my couch.
But as it turned out, Jamie was a light sleeper.
The second the door closed, she had shot up from her sleeping position, somehow looking completely awake in a blink.
Jamie was, well, was it P.C. to say butch? I mean not that I was the most politically correct person in the world, but the jury was out on that one. I would have to ask her. But that was what she was. She was six feet in her red Converse, her body wide, but not fat. Just stocky. Strong. For a girl. That was a phrase I knew she would hate. Just like she hated That kinda girl. So I used it all the time simply to push her buttons. Her chest was actually rather impressive, but for as long as I had known her, the only time she didn't bind her tits was directly after the shower. Her face was a bit soft. There was no mistaking the femininity in her bone structure, no matter how short she kept her brown hair. She had these deep blue, soulful eyes that many a girl had fallen in love with. Even though Jamie was a serial non-monogamist.
Style-wise, I wasn't sure I had ever seen her in anything other than plaid - spring through winter. Right now, she was in a red and blue one, a brown henley layered under. Her jeans were what chicks would call 'boyfriend jeans,' but in reality, she just got them from the men's section.