Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 31778 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31778 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
She waved off my question and shook her head. “I know I should probably eat, but my stomach is in knots. And honestly, I’m so tired that I could probably go to bed for the whole night even though it’s so early.”
“Listen to your body, dolcezza,” I encouraged, walking over to my dresser. “You had a fuck ton of emotional shit dropped on you today.” After digging around in the top drawer for a few seconds, I found my smallest T-shirt and yanked it out. It would still be huge on her, but I needed to know she was sleeping in my clothes. “Go put this on, and I’ll let you rest.”
The last thing I wanted to do was tuck her into my bed and leave, but if I stayed, she wouldn’t get any sleep, and I could see the toll the day had taken on her.
“I have—” she started to argue when I handed her my shirt.
“Just go get changed, Annika,” I ordered.
She looked torn between doing as she was told and being stubborn, so I glided the pad of one finger along her jaw and inwardly smiled when she melted.
“Go on, dolcezza.”
Silently, she stood and kicked off her shoes, then padded into the bathroom.
I turned down the bed, and when she came back into the room, all of my good intentions nearly went out the window. But I stuck to my guns and helped her get settled on the mattress.
“Don’t go wandering outside the room without me, okay?” I pointed at her cell. “My number is in your phone. Text me if you need anything.”
“You’re not leaving, are you?” she asked, her tone betraying a hint of vulnerability.
“Just gonna get some work done while you rest. I’ll be right downstairs if you need me.”
“M’kay,” she whispered, her eyelids already drooping.
Steeling myself against the onslaught of temptation I was about to be hit with, I bent over and kissed her on the forehead. Then I grabbed my cut and hot-footed out of there before her delicious scent broke my control.
Once I was in the hallway, I had to take a minute and get myself under control. The last thing I needed right then was shit from my brothers because I was hobbling around due to the steel pipe between my legs.
My phone beeped, and I yanked it out of my pocket, expecting to see Annika’s number, but it was Blaze.
There’d been a hiccup with our current job, and he needed me to fix it.
It wasn’t well known—for good fucking reason—that the MC’s main source of income revolved around making people disappear. Not like mercenaries or assassins, we didn’t kill anyone without cause. But we would end their life in another way, for a healthy fee.
If someone could afford it, we’d erase their identity and help them establish a new life. The MC had kind of fallen into the work after helping out a few people as a favor. King had realized that making people disappear into a new life could be a very lucrative income stream, and several of the patches had abilities that were perfect for operations like this.
King’s specialty was forging documents. Wizard was our computer genius. My gift as an artist came in handy outside the tattoo shop. We also taught the new patch skills that could help if they didn’t come in with any talent, so we never lacked in the necessary areas to complete a job.
It certainly didn't hurt that I had connections with people who were some of the best smugglers in the world. The only reason I’d been willing to use that connection was because King had made it one hundred percent clear that it wasn’t a condition to patch with the Hounds. Even though my being a member made them an ally to the boss, my cousin in New York, King always left the choice of involving The Family up to me. It was just another reason he had my complete trust and loyalty.
Our current job was a less common instance, though. One where we didn’t require a fee because of the circumstances. Sometimes, we jumped in to simply help someone who desperately needed saving. But those situations were a well-guarded secret so we didn’t get a fuck ton of sob stories from people who were trying to screw us over.
After sending Blaze a text that I was on my way, I headed to my studio in the clubhouse. They’d repurposed an office so that we could set up a room that had everything I needed to create whatever was required for each operation. One of the things that made me a unique artist was that my talents crossed over to mixed media. I was every bit as good at digital art as I was at drawing, painting, or tattooing. I could also sculpt and work with metal.