Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
I pointed my wrench in his direction, my eyes hardening. He clenched his jaw. “Don’t,” I warned him. The guys knew what I paid for a couple of nights a week, and they knew discussing it was off-limits. I might let Cameron slide with a lot of shit, but not this. “Go.”
He huffed. “I just—Jax, you’re not a monster,” he said quietly.
I clenched my jaw. “Cameron, get the fuck out of my garage.” He was pushing my buttons, and I didn’t want to take my anger out on him. Did I like being like this? No. But I also couldn’t seem to get off unless I was causing some kind of pain.
What kind of regular woman would want that kind of shit?
Cameron slammed the office door behind him when he left, and I flinched. Dropping the wrench in the toolbox, I slammed the hood closed on the car I was working on before stomping outside and lighting a cigarette. Cameron’s expensive ass car spun out of the lot, nearly hitting Arlo, who was on his way in, one of his guys following behind him in another truck.
“What?” I grunted when he got out of the truck.
Arlo sighed. “Cameron put you in a bad mood?”
I shrugged. “He pushes too fucking much.” I jerked my head in the direction of his truck. “What’s going on?”
Arlo dropped the truck keys into my palm. “Keeps running hot. Probably a simple fix, but I don’t feel like dealing with it. Can you have it done by Friday? I need it for Monday morning.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I’ll get it done.”
Arlo clapped me on the back. “Thanks, brother. And be safe tonight, you hear?”
He already knew without asking that I wouldn’t be joining them at the bar. I didn’t drink. Smoking a cigarette like I was now was few and far between. Ace smoked weed on a daily basis, but I didn’t dare touch it. I’d done enough of that shit as a kid.
“Oh, and I think Shaw’s got something in the works,” Arlo told me. “So keep an ear out.”
I nodded once. If Shaw had something in the works, then that meant we’d have a shipment soon. Which meant more money in our pockets.
Arlo squeezed my shoulder before heading off toward the waiting truck. The guy had already gotten out and settled into the passenger seat so Arlo could drive. Arlo turned back to face me, his hand resting on the door handle. “Be safe, Jax. I mean it.”
I nodded once. “Always,” I promised him.
CHAPTER THREE
Blakely
“Got one for you,” Evangeline, the owner and manager of Hooked—the escort service I worked for—held a key out to me. “Sun Bay Motel, room 103,” she informed me. “Just a warning, this guy’s got darker tastes. I haven’t had a girl comfortable being with him a second time.”
“And he’s still a customer?” I asked a bit suspiciously, not sure if I wanted to take this job. But wasn’t like I had much of a choice. I was desperate.
Evangeline shrugged and popped her gum, which was obnoxious as hell. “He pays well.” She patted my shoulder. “Have fun, sweetheart.”
I sighed and stood from the couch I’d been reading a murder mystery on. I stuffed the book back into my bag and headed to the door, my heels clicking across the white tile floor. I tugged at the end of my little black dress, wishing it didn’t almost reveal my ass. But at least I wouldn’t be wearing it long—only long enough to get to the motel and go home later tonight. I’d get my portion of the money from Evangeline tomorrow evening when I came back in for another night of work.
My car was a beat-up, piece of shit Honda that was probably better off in a junkyard. The damn thing barely got me from point A to point B safely. It was literally only a matter of time before this damn thing went kaput on me. Which was why I’d decided to become an escort. Jobs were scarce around here, and I couldn’t afford to move to the city or drive back and forth every day for a better job selection. I’d tried doing CamLyfe, but it was hard getting it to take off. I needed more income, so here I was, selling my body for sex—or dates. But sex was just more common.
The hinges of my car door basically screamed at me as I pried the door open and slid into the driver’s seat. It took four tries for the car to finally catch and turn over, and then the damn thing got stuck in third as I was driving down the highway and gave me a hell of a time shifting into fourth.
My car shut off all by itself when I finally pulled in beside a motorcycle in front of room 103. “Fucking piece of shit,” I muttered as I shifted the car into first, set the e-brake so the damn thing wouldn’t suddenly decide to roll away, and switched the key into the off position.