Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“Answer the question, D. Who is he?”
“His name is Thane, we have… history.” The pain in her voice makes me stop washing her hair for a second. There’s a story behind her and this Thane guy.
“History?”
“He was my first.”
That surprises me. Did she run to Georgia trying to rekindle an old flame?
“When I signed on to do the painting gig, I didn’t know it was him that owned it. He used his road name when we talked.”
“Which is?”
“Shiv, he wasn’t in a club when I was fifteen but he definitely is now.”
“Still, why would his club attack you like that, it doesn’t make sense.” I talk out loud, trying to put it all together. The way he was looking at her in that painting bay that day, I don’t think he has any ill feelings toward her, that or he’s just really good at acting.
“I don’t know, his mother didn’t seem to like me much either. It could have been a lot of different reasons.”
Pulling my hands free from her hair, I turn the faucet off and grab a clean towel from the rack above the toilet. Draping it over her head, she lifts up, her bright eyes digging right into my chest. Delilah isn’t for everyone. She’s tough, loud, does what she wants, but that’s what I like about her.
“Thanks for washing my hair,” she mumbles, rubbing the towel into her damp head of curls.
“No problem.”
Both of us coming out of the bathroom, she crawls onto the bed and starts to go through the bags from the store.
My hands scour my face as I remember my truck needing to be fixed. I sit my ass on the edge of the mattress.
“So, we gotta fucking problem.”
“Hmm?” She doesn’t even look up as she meddles through the bags. Her knees pressed into the bed, her hair framing her face, she reaches in and pulls out the aspirin with one hand and tears it open with her teeth, a bottle of Jack Daniels in her other hand. She must be feeling the pain in her cheek, I wish I could get her something stronger but that’s the best I can do for now.
“My water pump is out on my truck. Someone shot at it last night and it slowly leaked out overnight.”
Her eyes widen, both of those emerald irises now looking right at me. I’m surprised she knows what this means, then again I shouldn’t be. She’s a gear head, after all, she was always in the garage at the club.
“Did you call a shop, how long until they can get us in? Are we staying another night? Have you talked to my dad?” She fires off question after question, none of which I have the answer to.
“I’m going to do all that now. Hopefully, someone can get us in today and we can be on the road by tomorrow,” I say on an exhale, standing. I dig my phone out of my pocket to call a mechanic and then let Shadow know about our delay.
Twenty minutes later I found one mechanic that can work on a 2005 Ford diesel needing a water pump. He’ll even come get my truck and tow it to his shop and bring it back. But, he can’t work on it for another two days, then it will take at least an additional day for labor. So we’ll be here three nights at least. It’s the best I could find in this area.
Knowing the timeframe isn’t ideal, I call Shadow’s cell.
“Talk to me,” he answers.
“We gotta a problem.” I close my eyes, waiting for him to get pissed. Shadow has a temper and it’s a bad one. He shoots and asks questions later.
“What now?” he grates.
“Coolant went out in my truck, called around and the best I could find is us back on the road in four days.”
“Jesus Christ! You still in Tennessee?”
“Yeah.”
“So, tack on another two days for driving, you won’t be here for a week?” He makes it sound like a question but it’s rhetorical. He knows we won’t be back for at least a week.
“I guess not.”
“How’s Delilah? Is she okay?”
“Yeah, she’s fine. Taking advantage of the hotel amenities.” My mind flashes to her in the robe, watching TV in the big king-sized bed.
“She has her own room, right?”
My head snaps up, and I rub my chin nervously. I’m not about to tell him the truth, he’ll demand I sleep in the fucking lobby.
“Yup,” I lie, my voice tight.
“Good. I’ll wire you some money for the stay, room service, and whatever, just make sure she stays safe or I swear to God—”
“I have it under control. The mechanic is picking up my truck so it won’t even be here for anyone to see if anyone was looking.”
“Good.”
“Yup, I got it all taken care of.” I point out how well I’m taking care of the situation and that he can count on me. I’m one of his brothers and he needs to see that.