Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
“A kid you don’t want me around,” she says and I nod once, because there’s no need to repeat it again. “So, you basically want me to spread my legs, but we’ll remain strangers?”
“I’ll know you in all the ways that count and trust me, you’ll like it.”
“You’re not only an asshole, you’re a cocky asshole.”
I just stare at her—letting that be my response.
“I hate cocky assholes,” she mutters.
“That doesn’t matter for what we’ll be sharing.”
“You get near me and the only thing we’ll be sharing is our names on a police report,” she retorts.
For some reason that makes me want to smile.
“We’ll see, Cupcake. We’ll see,” I tell her, putting my truck in gear.
“I’m not going to be your fuck-buddy, Noah.”
I give her a wink and leave her standing there. I can hear her yell as I drive off, even though I can’t make out what she says. I find myself hoping that she has that much energy in bed. Lord knows I have enough frustration inside that I could use a good work out.
I have a feeling that Rory could be just what I need to help with that.
I drive down the road, intent on picking my son up and feeling better than I have since the day I left my club. Coming to Montana was a good idea. Just my most trusted men knew I owned this place and it’s almost impossible to trace it back to me. I miss my brothers. I miss the life I had, and I know that Ryan does too. But I feel better knowing that my son is safer and eventually we’ll find a routine here and life will be good for Ryan.
He’ll be safe and happy and that’s all that matters.
I take the long way to the school. I’m running late, but I can open my truck up on the backroad and make up the difference. It’s habit, but I like to go the long way to the school, that way I can watch and make sure no one is following me. I’m being overly cautious and as far as I know, no one knows I’m in Montana, it’s just that I’ve learned the hard way that you can never be too careful.
When I take the exit, I notice a red Jeep does too. I clocked that Jeep behind me when I dropped Rory off. It seems strange that it’s behind me once again, since I was at Rory’s for a bit. My body tenses up without me realizing it. I reach over to the middle console and put my gun within easy reach on the seat. I have a concealed weapons license and a permit, that was the first precaution I made upon moving here.
I slow down, giving my signal to turn off at a small garage. I don’t turn into the garage, staying on the shoulder instead. The Jeep slows too, and my hand goes to my gun on reflex. The Jeep moves so slow, I could get out and walk faster. As it goes by I look inside, bringing my gun up closer. My finger settles against the trigger and I keep the gun in my lap, ready to bring it up at a second’s notice. It goes by, speeding up and I can see a man driving. He’s got blond hair and a small beard, wearing nondescript clothes. He doesn’t even glance at me as he drives by and once he passes I notice that his plates say Montana.
I’m freaking losing it. I’m seeing ghosts where there are none, which is bad. God knows I have way too much shit going on to invent more. I pull back on the road and I follow that Jeep until it turns off at a subdivision.
Definitely making up ghosts where there are none.
That thought in my head, I press the gas pedal down. Time to get my boy. Having him home with me is the only time I feel even a little relaxed. Hopefully that might change a little more when I get Rory in my bed.
Now, I’m back to smiling.
11
Rory
I wake up with a jerk.
“Damn it!” I growl. My eyes go to the clock that tells me it’s midnight. I don’t need this tonight.
My body is covered in sweat, and I feel yucky. The covers are pulled up off the bed and wrapped around me so much that it takes me several minutes just to get loose of them. I push my hair away from my face, it’s so wet it goes back easily.
These dreams are killing me. They’re not of my new neighbor, and as much as those have been making me want to scream—for a different reason—I’d prefer them to these.
What I just had wasn’t a dream… It was a nightmare.
That’s not exactly right. It was memories. Memories of a past I left behind and memories of a life I hated.