Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“Fuck, that’s really good.”
I stared down. I didn’t want his praise. I was too afraid I would begin to crave it. That left me open to disappointment. I wanted to crawl into a hole and be left alone.
Shane must have sensed that because he backed off.
“There’s a legal pad in the kitchen drawer. If you want to use it, you can.”
I shrugged. I did not want to be talking about this.
He didn’t say anything for a minute.
“Okay, I’ll catch you later.” He hesitated by the door. “If you want to go back to school, there are ways to do that. You don’t have to use your real name.”
“Graduated.”
He shook his head. I knew he didn’t believe me. And he was right. I was lying. I’d left during my senior year, hours before my actual birthday. I’d emancipated myself.
But Shane seemed to think I was a kid, for real. I guessed I was pretty scrawny for a boy.
“Okay, Doogie Houser. Have a good night.” He slapped his hand against the open door a few times. “Try not to burn the place down.”
“’Kay.”
He shook his head and left, muttering something about teenagers. I almost laughed but my ribs hurt too much. Technically, I was still a teenager, even though I was an adult. For a year and a few weeks, anyway. I heard the rumble of his motorcycle a few seconds later.
He was gone.
And I was alone.
I made myself a sandwich and put the rest of the stuff away. My new clothes were a little big, but he thought I was a boy so it made sense. Boys liked slouchy clothes.
I didn’t used to. But these days, I did.
Big clothes were all the better to hide in.
Maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t have to hide forever.
Chapter Seven
Shane
The engine let off a soft ticking sound as it cooled between my legs. I was tailing Sam, one of the creepiest fucks in the club. He was the kind of guy who would smile to your face while he slipped a knife between your ribs.
Not that he’d done anything like that in years. He was getting older now. Mostly, he just hung around, talking about the glory days.
And beating up kids in parking lots, I thought with a sneer.
Of course, he wasn’t as active now that Dante was dead. But he was definitely a possibility for the motherfucker I was looking for. I had no choice but to put a stop to this once and for all. I wanted my brother’s killers dead. I’d gotten Dante already, but I knew there was another. He’d been killing bikers and their loved ones for the past few years. I wanted the sick fuck to stop hurting women connected to the club.
I couldn’t help but think of the kid. Parker was in danger now, and I couldn’t have that. No one would ever hurt that kid again. Not on my watch.
So I waited.
While I waited, I thought about Parker. I felt a renewed urgency to end this whole thing sooner because of him. The kid brought out a weird protective streak in me. He really reminded me of my brother. My brave, beautiful, too goddamn good for this world brother.
But the kid was even softer. Tough, but not as tough as he pretended to be, trying to brave things out but a razor’s edge away from becoming something damaged and twisted. Twisted like me.
Hell, he was probably already pretty twisted.
But somehow, I didn’t think so. I was pretty sure the kid was sweet and good, all the way down.
Either way, he was way too soft and pretty to be on the streets. I’d thought so the few times he wasn’t staring at his damn sneakers. It was hard to get a really good look at him, and I knew now that it was deliberate. The kid was hiding himself and I didn’t blame him. He’d obviously been hurt, and he’d learned to protect himself. But hiding wasn’t enough.
I’d teach the kid self-defense, I decided. That way, no one would be able to fuck with him again, whether he stayed or not. He would have to be told about the threat as well. He would be a target if he stayed. I tried to reassure myself that he was okay for now. No one knew where I lived or that I had anyone I cared about on this earth.
The truth was I didn’t. Not until I’d found that bundle of rags getting the shit kicked out of him in the back of the clubhouse. I wasn’t sure how the fuck I felt about the kid, exactly, but I didn’t want him getting hurt.
I stared as Sam came out of the all-night diner and tried to cop a feel of the waitress having a smoke by the parking lot. She slapped him and stepped on his foot. Sam howled like a banshee while the waitress ran back inside. I shook my head in disgust.