Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Mack slings the other man towards us where he drops to the floor gasping for air. I grab him by the hair and turn to Mila. “You okay?”
“Honestly? Been better.” A manic laugh bursts out of her before she slaps a hand over her mouth.
Scrapper's eyes narrow. “They rough you up?”
Maybe she hears the murder in his tone, because she hesitates before she nods, her tear-wet eyes wide. “Please, don't—”
“On your fucking knees,” Scrapper growls as he approaches the remaining standing guy. “If you want to fucking live to see morning, get the fuck down on your knees.”
“What are you—” I pull Mila against me, making her face away. I dunno what Scrapper's planning, but I don't want Mila to watch. She looks like she’s barely holding it together as it is.
Mack gestures with his gun, just a quick hint, but the guy takes it. He drops to his knees, his eyes wide and his jaw tense enough to crack a tooth. He'd get more sympathy from me if he and his buddies weren’t terrorizing Mila. Ganging up on and beating a defenseless woman is a hard character flaw to overlook.
Scrapper stops right in front of the guy and cracks his knuckles, one hand at a time. “The only thing keeping you alive is that girl over there. You understand that, right?”
The guy's silent, but his pupils are dilated with fear.
“I said, do you fucking understand?” Scrapper's voice snaps like a whip.
Mila trembles against me, and I squeeze her harder. “You're okay, girl. We got you.” Her heart's hammering so quick and hard, I can feel it against me. Jesus fucking Christ.
The guy on the floor nods quickly. “Yes.”
Whether he understands how badly he and his buddies fucked up or not, he knows playing along is in his best interests.
“Good.” Scrapper whips out a kick that slams the guy in the face, launching him backwards so hard his whole body clears the floor. When he lands, he rolls into a hunk of machinery and stays still. Playing dead.
“Piece of shit,” Mack growls. “Let's get the fuck outta here.”
We pat them down. They’ve got a couple guns and a table setting’s worth of knives. We take all of it, then leave them behind, beaten and hopefully just a little bit smarter. They don’t have anything on them that points to a particular gang or club. Fucking pissant street criminals. I hope they’ve learned something, but I don't expect them to be quite that smart. Too bad. For their sake.
Scrapper slams the door shut behind us as we leave. It bounces open again, broken from when those guys busted through it, but there's some satisfaction in the sound.
I cup her jaw and run a finger over her cheek. “Mila, baby, you alright?”
She's still clinging to me, but looks up when I ask. “I think so,” she says with a nod.
“What the hell happened?” I run my fingers through her hair, watching her relax into the touch.
“It's complicated. Can we talk about it somewhere else?”
“Shit, yeah. Sorry.” I get on my bike, and pat the seat behind me for her to sit. “Let’s get you home.”
“Home? I don’t know. You can drop me off on campus and I can—”
“Baby,” says Scrapper as he gets on his own bike. “Your hands are fucking bleeding and you look like you’re about to fall over. There's no fucking way we're leaving you alone until we know you're really safe.”
Mack nods in agreement, his face stern and his big arms crossed over his chest.
Fuck, I love an independant woman who can take care of herself, but she needs to get her head checked if she thinks we’re going to drop her off and call it a night. “Get on the damn bike,” I snap. “We can take you to your place or we can bring you back to the club. Pick one fast.”
Mila’s lips part in shock. “Um, my place?”
“Smart girl.” I capture her head with my hand around the back of her neck, then pull her close for a brief kiss. “We're gonna take good care of you. Now hang on.”
12
MILA
I close my eyes, tighten my grip around Reaper’s waist and lean my cheek against his back. Wind plays with my hair, and the engine rumbles between my legs. For a short time, life is simple.
I wish I could live in that moment forever, but now that I’m not worried about my life, my ribs are crying and I can taste copper in my mouth. More than anything, I want to take some painkillers, soak in the tub and then curl up on the couch. Maybe zone out watching TV to distract me from everything that happened tonight.
Everything I brought on myself. How could I be so stupid?
When we get to the apartment, it’s dark and empty. Meghan's working at the campus bar until late, and Carrie and Liz are gone for a few days. I don’t want to be alone, but it’s good that nobody is there to ask why I’m a wreck, or why I’m being brought home by three scary bikers. The guys park their bikes and lead me up the stairs to the front entrance.