Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67757 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67757 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
“I have to go,” I say. “I need to warn Daddy.”
Lucky’s grip tightens, but it doesn’t hurt. “If you want to help, call or text him. If you interfere, they will arrest you.”
“So what,” I shout, indignant and helpless.
“So what?” He snorts and shakes his head. “I can’t do shit to protect you if you’re in federal lockup. Got it?”
I scoff. “I hardly think I’d be in danger surrounded by federal agents.”
His smile widens, but there’s no humor in it. “That’s where your book smarts fail you, sweetheart. No place is safe for a girl like you, least of all a building filled with people who hate your dear old dad.”
His eyes flash with something that looks like heat, but I can’t be sure, which is totally out of the norm for me. Usually, I can tell when a man wants me, mainly because they always want me.
I reach for my phone to warn Daddy but instead, I hear his voice. “This is a mistake,” he yells. “I’ll have your jobs. All of you!”
“Daddy!” I cry out and dodge Lucky’s efforts to hold me back, stopping in the doorway as three agents surround my father, one on each side and one trailing behind. Without thinking, I lunge forward and start pushing the agents back. “You can’t do this! Do you know who he is?” The agent in the back raises his forearms to block my hits.
“Aria.” The deep voice belongs to Lucky, I think, but I can’t be sure through my thick fog of rage.
“You people,” I shout so loud my lungs burn. “You think you can come in here and do whatever you want. Well, you can’t. This is unlawful.” Coco, the best sidekick in the world, is at my side barking like crazy at the agents. “Good boy.”
The agent I falsely assumed was kind and fatherly takes a step forward. “You need to step back or find yourself in a set of matching cuffs.”
Coco lunges forward and nips at the aggressive agent's pant leg. “Good boy!”
“Dammit, Aria, stay back,” my father commands. His expensive suit, in sharp contrast to the agents’ shabby uniforms, but his voice is just as angry.
“Get her back,” he orders Lucky, and a moment later, the biker’s strong arms band around my waist, my back flush against his incredibly hard chest as he pulls me away.
“Daddy, no!” My legs kick, and I struggle, but Lucky’s grip doesn’t budge. “Do something, Lucky! You can’t let them take him away.”
Lucky sets me down on my feet and spins me to face him, his eyes sparkling like gems this close. “Your father has a team of lawyers that he pays for situations just like this, Aria. Don’t make it worse by getting yourself arrested.”
His hand rests against the wall beside my head, the other low on my belly still, or maybe it’s again. I’m too full of hormones and emotions to think clearly.
“He’ll be all right,” Lucky reassures me and swipes a thumb across my cheek.
I blink, surprised that I’m crying. “I don’t cry.”
He smiles. “All evidence to the contrary?”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t be a smart ass.”
“It’s my default setting. You good?”
I nod. “I will be. As soon as I find out why they’re taking Daddy away.”
Lucky steps back, and another agent appears. “You need to leave. Now.” Coco barks at the agent from his spot right beside my pink booties, and three loud finger snaps from the agent stops him mid-bark.
“I’m not leaving.”
“You don’t have a choice,” the harsh female agent says. “Leave now while we do what we need to do or wait in the back of my truck. The choice is yours.”
“Grab your shit, Aria. We can come back when they’re done. Right?” Lucky’s gaze is fixed on Agent Chubby in the FBI jacket.
“Right.” He walks away, confident we will obey.
“Come on, Princess. Let’s get you back to the house.”
Lucky’s touch is too much right now, and I shrug it off and stomp back into my office. “Some biker you are, giving in like that. I guess the outlaw part of outlaw biker is silent, huh?”
“Funny.” He scoops Coco up in his arms and shoves him into the backpack on the chair before hoisting it up on his shoulder, an impatient expression on his face.
“Not the backpack,” I tell him and point to the pink doggie tote on the floor. “It’s Coco’s favorite carrier, and it matches my bag.” I pat my midnight fuchsia bag with a smile. Lucky rolls his eyes.
Twenty minutes later, we’re in the mansion driveway, and I jump off his bike, wobbling because my legs vibrate like crazy. “How dare you force onto that…that deathtrap!”
Lucky’s hands shoot out to steady me, and I smack them away. “You were perfectly safe,” he insists, his voice full of amusement.
“You don’t know that! They call them donor-cycles for a reason.”