Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
His words make me laugh outright, and I take a step back to examine my handiwork.
“I think you’re good, but you should probably have someone check out those ribs.”
“What ribs?”
I give him a poke, and he growls in pain. “Those ribs.”
“Wicked woman,” he says on a sigh. “Thank you for fixing me up.”
“No problem. Is there somewhere I can drop you off?” At his frown, I move to touch his midsection again because I couldn’t help myself. “Because clearly, you’ll have difficulty riding your motorcycle like this.”
“I’m fine,” he says and shakes his head.
“At least call someone to pick you up, Shades. What if the pain is too much and you fall over?”
“I’ll be fine.” He pushes off the pew and lets out a long breath. “I gotta go.”
He stomps his way back up the aisle and through the doors, and I’m left wondering if I imagined the last twenty minutes. Until I look down at the bloody cotton squares and gauzes, the torn packages, and the murky pink water.
Nope, not a dream.
Just a dangerously beautiful man too stubborn for his own good. Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.
A good reminder for myself as well, just in case I start weaving fairytales and fantasies starring the green-eyed biker.
Chapter Eight
Shades
“Fuck,” I growl and pick up my pace across the parking lot to check on the money before I head back to the club. The money is there, thank fuck, so I jump on my bike and take the quickest route back to the clubhouse. Ace needs to know what went down so we can take these motherfuckers out.
The clubhouse is empty, which shouldn’t surprise me after that long-ass meeting. I spot a few bikes parked behind Ace Motors and head across the parking lot. Relief washes over me at the sight of Ace, Coop, Wilder, Preacher, and Nova. They’re all busy working on bikes and cars, plowing through the workload, probably because we need to replenish what’s been stolen.
“Is everybody working today?” Usually, we work in shifts to make sure all the other businesses have coverage, so they see at least one of us every damn day. It’s the only way to make sure no one tries to fuck the club over, and it’s the best way to figure out who is trying to poach workers or get them to betray us.
Ace’s mouth tugs into a tight grin. “Not everybody.”
I frown. “You think this shit was fun?” I point to the evidence of my fight with both hands.
“See? I told you he shouldn’t go alone. What happened?”
Coop asks the question, but it’s Nova who gets all up in my face to inspect the damage.
“Two Iron Kings. I spotted ’em when I walked out of the church with the cash, but I pretended not to. I just wanted to get on my bike and go. Big mistake because those assholes jumped me.”
Coop punches his palm angrily. “Please tell me you didn’t go down easy.”
“Fuck no. I made sure to mark those assholes for next time.”
“Did they get the money?” Ace asks, cutting through the bullshit to the heart of the matter.
“Nope. Heard them coming up behind me and locked it before the first blow landed.”
“Good. How’d things go with the Pastor?”
“Fine. He’s a little on the preachy side, but there were no issues getting the cash.”
Unless you consider a feisty church girl with perfect tits an issue, which I do.
Ace nods, his lips pinching into a tight white line, and I can see all the thoughts running through his mind.
“Who did this?” Nova’s finger presses against my brow, and I wince.
“Fuck, man.” I swat his hand away.
“Not an answer,” Nova says, his brows dipping in concern.
“The new church treasurer insisted on treating my wounds when she found me in the parking lot.”
“She?” Coop’s face grins with delight as he asks the question. “She must be smoking hot if you allowed anyone but Nova to come near you with a needle.”
“She’s all right,” I say casually. “You know how church people are.”
“She didn’t do a bad job,” Nova says as he examines the stitches. “Three stitches, straight and tied nicely. Did she clean it?”
I nod and show him my knuckles, telling him about the spray shit she put on ’em.
“Even dug the damn debris from my knuckles. Hurt like a motherfucker.”
“Damn, she must be a real looker,” Preacher says with a laugh and a knowing shake of his head. “Leave it to Shades to step foot in a church for the first time in years and find a chick.”
“I didn’t find anyone. She’s the one who gave me the cash, dickhead.”
Preacher laughs. “And he’s sensitive about her,” he jokes. “Must be serious.”
As each of my brothers gives me shit about Letty, I motion with my hands for them to give me more because I’d rather take shit about her than about getting the shit kicked out of me. I smile and take it all in stride.