Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 107670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Jesse swore. “Can you disable it?”
“Already did, but I left it where it is in case she wants proof that we’re not fucking with her. What reason does she have to trust us after the way our old pack behaved toward her?”
“I personally never thought she introduced Mia to drugs,” claimed Bracken.
“Neither did I,” said Zander. “Her pride was—still is—wild, but Harley was grounded. And, no offense, Jesse, but Mia was no saint.”
Jesse sighed. “I know. I never blamed Harley either.” He tipped his chin toward the club. “We need to find her.”
He had never much liked nightclubs. What was fun about being jostled by shit-faced people while lights flashed in your eyes, couples were dry humping all over the place, glow sticks were being waved in your face, and females were whipping their hair around and sending their sweat flying at you?
No, it just wasn’t Jesse’s thing. Nonetheless, he descended the steps to the underground club, nodding curtly at the human manning the door before walking through the arched doorway. It wasn’t at all what Jesse had expected. No people dancing on tables. No glow sticks. No whistles. No podiums. No people dry humping against the red brick walls. In fact, the place had the look of a jazz bar. It was classy and stylish. But there was also something dark about it—it had a forbidden air that drew a person inside and heated their blood. His wolf liked it.
Jesse slowly scanned his surroundings. There didn’t seem to be any sign of Harley. He arched a questioning brow at Bracken and Zander. They shook their heads.
“Want to split up?” asked Bracken.
Jesse thought about it. “No. Better if we stay together.” Indicating for his fellow enforcers to follow, he stalked the place in search of Harley. The last time he’d seen her had been at Mia’s memorial. No one else had noticed the female leaning against a tree, watching from afar where his old pack wouldn’t sense her. He’d known she’d come—not just because she was the type of person who paid her respects, but because he always knew where she was; he’d monitored her over the years as she drifted from place to place.
After the last blessing was said over the memorial stone, she’d walked away. Knowing she was staying at a local hotel, he’d gone to her. At first, they had simply talked about his sister and exchanged stories. Then, before he knew it, he was kissing Harley like a man possessed. Her taste had burst through his system and ate at his control until he’d just had to have her.
He didn’t know how many times or how many ways he’d fucked her that night, but he could still remember the feel and taste of her. Honestly, he was surprised she’d let him in the hotel room without a struggle. His pack had completely fucked her over. Worse, her pride hadn’t been worth shit, so she hadn’t had their backing.
Part of him had been glad when her aunt took her away from her pride—God knew she’d had a better life in the human world. But another part of him had hated it. He hadn’t liked not knowing where she was and what she was doing. His wolf hadn’t liked being away from her either. And so Jesse had watched over her from afar, interfered in her life more times than he should have.
The day after the memorial, he’d woken up to find her gone. He’d been pissed, but he’d also understood why she’d left. So he’d returned to California just as she’d returned to Manhattan, and he’d continued to watch over her . . . waiting for the right time to step forward and take what was his.
“I don’t see her,” said Zander.
“Me neither.” Bracken walked to the bar and spoke to the barmaid. “I’m looking for Harley Vincent.”
The middle-aged brunette paused in drying a glass. “Yeah? Who’s asking?”
“I’m an old friend.”
The brunette narrowed her eyes. “Old friend, huh. She’ll be out any second now. Want a drink?”
“Um . . .”
“Then move away from my bar.”
“Let’s sit and wait,” said Zander.
No sooner had they settled at a table near the dance floor than the crowd went wild and Bracken said with a smile, “Look.”
Jesse followed Bracken’s gaze . . . and there she was, standing next to the DJ on the stage, electric violin in hand. The beautiful instrument was S-shaped and a striking metallic blue, though nowhere near as striking as her heavy lidded gold eyes—bedroom eyes. She looked fucking edible in a crimson ripped top, faded-blue skinny jeans, and red high heels. Her midnight-black hair had dark-burgundy highlights and hung down her back in a smooth, layered curtain. She had some deliciously sensual curves and a pair of full, high breasts that he knew were a handful. His wolf sat up, intrigued and hungry. No surprise there.