Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Fucking monster.
She needed to do something. He couldn’t be allowed to hurt another woman.
And she was going to stop him.
Kelsie whipped her head back and forth, frantically searching for anything to help her. Nothing caught her eye. Brooke kept her damn car as clean as the day she drove it off the lot. Kelsie lifted the center console and rifled through the contents, sending a packet of tissues flying in her frantic search.
Dog treats.
Hand sanitizer.
A baggie of hair ties.
Fucking nothing.
She yanked the glove box open with trembling hands and rummaged through the contents. Brooke’s registration fell out as Kelsie’s hand bumped something hard and metal.
She froze.
Holy shit. Was that a gun?
She grasped the object and drew it from the glove box without breathing. It’d been ages since she’d held a weapon, but her youth’s training hadn’t failed her. She checked the clip with competent movements and then clicked the safety off.
The beast would never hurt anyone again.
TY GLANCED UP as the bell over the door jangled, indicating a customer’s arrival.
“I got it, boss,” Jinx said as he strode from the stock room. The bastard sent a mischievous wink Ty’s way, knowing that Ty hated it when he called him boss. Of course, that made Jinx say it every five seconds.
Idiot.
“Hey, man,” Jinx approached a register. “How can I help you?”
“The BMW dealership is out of the tires I need and won’t have them in until the end of the week. They said you might have them.” His disdain-filled voice had Ty glancing up, curious to see who the owner was.
It was a snazzy man in a fancy suit that probably cost as much as Ty’s bike. He hated wearing a suit, but this guy looked right at home in the outfit, complete with a haughty look of superiority. He probably couldn't fathom a generic tire shop carrying any luxury brands. Little did he know Ty worked with many high-end clients and even dealerships.
“Whatcha got there, man? That an Alpina?” Jinx asked, craning his neck to see the pricy vehicle parked in front of the shop.
“Yes, it’s an Alpina XB7, twenty-twenty-four.”
Jinx whistled. “Nice ride.”
The guy’s smug grin doubled in size. “Sure is. If you can afford one.”
Jinx grunted. “Let me check our inventory,” he said as he moved to the computer.
Ty narrowed his eyes at his club brother, who damn well knew they had the exact tires in stock because he’d signed for the delivery two days ago. Guess the guy had to get his kicks somewhere, and making rich assholes wait was great fun.
He went back to restocking their inventory. Business was booming, and he’d been hard-pressed to keep up with demand.
“We got ‘em,” Jinx said a few moments later. “I can do it for you right now if you’d like.”
“I’d like to see them first.”
Ty peered up from his work in time to see confusion cross Jinx’s face. “See the tires?”
“Yes, all four of them.”
“You afraid they’re dusty?”
Ty bit his lip to keep from laughing. Respect was important with clients, but he’d never expect Jinx to take shit from a rich douchebag.
“No. I want to make sure you’re not trying to sell me knockoffs.”
That had Ty straightening. He knew Jinx well enough to know the man would blow if Mr. Moneybags kept pushing.
Jinx rose to his full six-foot-five inches. “You calling me a liar?”
Shit. Time to intervene. Ty took a step forward as the bells jangled over the door again. Just what he needed, another customer to witness this conflict. “One moment, pl—” He gasped.
Kelsie burst into the building wide-eyed and swinging a fucking gun from left to right as though searching for something—or someone. Her trembling arms aimed at Mr. Moneybags the second she saw him.
“Oh shit!” Jinx yelled.
Ty vaulted over the counter. “Sweetheart, what the fuck are you doing?”
She blinked and flicked her gaze his way before focusing on the douche again. “Ty?”
“Yeah, honey, it’s me.” He didn’t want to use her name in front of the man at the business end of her pistol.
Confusion scrunched her face. “W-what are you doing here?”
“This is my shop.”
Mr. Moneybags turned. “Oh, holy fuck!” he screamed, then started to run toward the exit.
“Don’t move!” she shouted at Moneybags. “Do. Not. Move.” She jabbed the gun forward with each word.
“No one’s moving, sweetheart,” Ty said, even as he took another step toward her. Christ, what the hell had happened? Did she snap? Did something trigger a flashback so bad she’d reached for a gun? And how the hell had she ended up in his shop? “Why don’t you put the gun down, and we’ll talk.” He stepped in the path of the weapon.
She’d never shoot him.
A flash of a similar scene only a few months ago hit him—Kelsie standing before Spec with a knife. Spec’s knife. Brenna managed to de-escalate that situation, but she wasn’t here now.