Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“I don’t think so,” she said, but I detected a hint of a lie in her voice. “Come on. Let’s think of happier things,” she declared, bringing steaming mugs of tea over to the table.
“Like what?”
“Like how you have more details to put up on that little website of yours now. Firsthand knowledge, not just old hearsay and faraway looks.”
“You make me sound like a stalker,” I grumbled.
“If you’re a stalker, so am I,” she reasoned. “Besides, we both know why you know so much about them. That’s all that matters. They will never know anyway.”
That was true.
So I let some of the worries fall away as we both talked about the bikers, about what I was going to say about them the next time I updated the website.
After a fair amount of time had lapsed, of course.
So no one suspected a thing.
The problem was… things kind of got a little, you know, life-threatening-y pretty soon after then…
CHAPTER FOUR
Donovan
I hadn’t known it was possible to be in pain in every inch of my body somehow at the exact same time.
It was almost like I could isolate the pain. If I thought about my neck, that hurt the worst. If I thought of my skin, it burned intolerably. So on and so forth… for every square inch of me.
Each little pothole the car hit as we drove from the crash site and back toward Seeley’s old neighborhood where Ama’s clinic was located felt like it sent stabbing, throbbing, and burning sensations through every inch of me. Especially my ribs.
“Were you drinking?” Seeley asked, looking down at me.
“Girls gave me margaritas,” I said, my mind flashing back to their sudden presence over me.
Both pretty.
Just in different ways.
The crazy one who’d taken charge of the gun had long blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a heart-shaped face.
Then there was the quieter one, the one with the big, worry-filled blue eyes, had a rounder face and medium-blonde hair that was pulled back in a loose braid with just a few tendrils falling around her face.
Sisters, clearly, but both unique in their own ways. But both on the shorter side, with somewhat delicate builds—narrow shoulders, small bone structure. Just enough alike that you could see a family resemblance, but each with their own good looks.
The more extroverted one, Triss, had been wearing a dark blue tank top under a celestial-printed duster and a ground-brushing, lightweight skirt. She had a necklace with a dainty silver poppy pendant.
The other girl, whose name I still didn’t know, was in a loose black tee with a stack of books printed on it and a pair of pajama shorts with a design of coffee cups. She, too, had that same dainty necklace as her sister, but it had a hibiscus instead of a poppy.
“Did it help?” Seeley asked.
“Not a fucking bit,” I grumbled. Even if the second girl was right, and it was mostly tequila. There were some kinds of pain only prescription pharmaceuticals could touch.
“Just ten more minutes,” Huck called back.
“Ama is already there waiting for us,” Seeley said. “Should have everything set up.”
“Did you see anything?” Huck asked.
“Not really. They were behind me. Then I was having trouble moving enough to see. The girls dragged me off of the street, but the car was gone by then.”
“Windshield shattered via garden gnome,” Huck said, snorting.
“Wait… what?” I asked, shaking my head, then immediately regretting it as my vision swam. They hadn’t taken off my helmet, via Seeley’s orders, knowing Ama would be worried about my neck. And while it seemed to do its job protecting me, it sure as fuck felt like I might have a good concussion going on.
“The crazy one…”
“Triss,” I supplied.
“Yeah, her, she was tossing ceramic garden gnomes at the car when she thought they were going to try to run you over when you were on the ground.”
That… kind of sounded like her. On the offensive. While the other one—softer, shyer—had focused on helping me.
“I already sent out some texts,” Seeley said. “To everyone I know who works at a repair shop. They’re on the lookout for a black muscle car with a shattered windshield, but if they are capable of doing it themselves, we are out of luck on that front.”
Unlike the mother club in Navesink Bank and the sister club in Shady Valley, we didn’t exactly have a network of associates to keep an eye out for shit for us.
Sure, we had Booker and his team of private security people, but no other organizations like ours. Which meant we likely weren’t going to have much luck tracking down the car if they didn’t hit a shop somewhere.
“Shit’s weird,” Huck said. “Things have been… peaceful.”
“Unless it isn’t club-related,” Seeley suggested. “Got any enemies from that old life of yours?” he asked.
“What? Some guy pissed off a decade later that they lost their pink slips in one of his car races?” Che asked from the front seat, shaking his head. “Doesn’t seem likely.”