Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
“Yeah? Of me?” It’s laughable, but he’s not laughing when he strokes my cheek with the back of his hand.
“Yeah. Of you.” He grins. “I don’t admit that to just anybody. Feeling jealousy. I’ve been above that all my life. I guess there’s something about you that makes me want to open up.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.” He kisses my forehead, and that’s nice. I close my eyes and inhale the scent of him. The soap he used in the shower, the touch of sweat after what we just did together. It’s a nice combination—something I could get used to.
“Hell, is that the time?” Archer slides out from under me and sits up, running both hands through his hair and scowling at the clock on the nightstand. “I have an errand to run; I’d better get moving.”
“Where are you going?”
“Somewhere, you’ll come with me.” He smirks over his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I would never take you anywhere there’s danger. Believe that.”
I believe he means it. I just don’t know if the people he associates with feel the same way. I guess I’ll find out soon enough since I know better than to disagree. He’d probably throw me over his shoulder and march out of the apartment.
Hmm. I don’t completely hate the thought of that. What does that say about me?
There’s no time to think about it when I’m busy getting dressed in the clothes I was wearing when I got to Archer’s. The look on his face tells me what he thinks about my jeans and blouse. “It’s either this or your sweats,” I remind him with a grin.
“Good point.” He looks me up and down as we leave the apartment. “Though you’ll need some new clothes. No offense, but there’s more to life than Goodwill.”
“None taken.” Though seriously, does he think I enjoyed having to shop there? I wasn’t being cute or thrifting because it’s trendy. I was surviving.
When we pull up in front of a club, I’m glad I went with the jeans, though nothing I own is exactly right for a night out. “What are we doing here?”
“Business.” He waves away a valet who approaches as he’s helping me out of the car. “I won’t be here long. Don’t touch it.” Archer then drapes his leather jacket over my shoulders before escorting me into the club through a pair of tinted glass doors. He ignores the pair of bouncers standing near the entrance, walking fast enough that I have to trot to keep up with him.
I don’t like this place. It hasn’t opened for business yet—either that or it’s not very popular—and the bartenders eyeball us the entire way across the empty dance floor. Music is still playing, a bass-heavy song turned up loud enough to make my ears hurt.
Archer leads me all the way to the far wall, where a door sits. It blends in so well I would never notice it if there wasn’t a tall, thick-necked man standing on either side with their hands clasped in front of them.
The way they look me up and down isn’t sexual. More like they’re sizing me up. Wondering who I am. Maybe they think I’m a threat? That would be funny, like a bear being afraid of a mouse.
“I’m here to talk to Bruno. Or Deke, if Bruno’s not around.” Archer spits the words at them. Defiant, angry. “Don’t bother telling me they’re too busy, either. The place isn’t even open yet.”
So Bruno and Deke are the owners? I wish he would’ve given me the rundown before we got here. Maybe I wouldn’t feel so totally lost.
One of the two men jerks his chin at Archer. “Who should I say is calling?”
Archer smirks. “Don’t waste my time. Just tell them I’m here to see them.” Meanwhile, I can feel the bartenders staring holes into the back of my head. There are a few girls in tight, barely-there clothes wandering around in the periphery of my vision, too. Waitresses? Whoever they are, they’re laughing at me.
If there’s one thing I got used to over the years, walking around in a school full of strangers and wearing clothes that never quite fit right, it’s being laughed at.
Suddenly, the door flies open, and a man who makes the two thugs in front of us look like they’re pre-pubescent fills the doorway. “What do you want, Archer?”
“Deke.” The disgust practically drips from Archer’s voice. “You know I don’t love coming down here and looking at you. But one of my boys has gone missing the past day or two, and I wondered if you’d know anything about that.”
Deke shakes his bald head slowly, his eyes narrowing into slits. “Nope. No idea.”
“You mean you haven’t heard anything at all? Trent, his name is. You haven’t seen him?”
“And why would I know anybody from your crew? Why would I see them?” When he folds his arms, I’m sure the seams on his sleeves are going to pop from the strain. He must work out full-time.