Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
One, he needed to stay the hell away from Silver Donahue. Two, he didn’t think there was a chance in hell that he could.
He tries, though.
For a solid year, he does his best to be dismissive to the point where he appears cold and threatening.
But when Silver finds herself in danger, he forgets why he was giving her the cold shoulder to begin with.
The thing is, Silver didn’t forget.
***
Silver Donahue was so deeply in love with Piers Webb it was disheartening. Especially knowing he didn’t like her back.
She’s determined to live her life, but with Webber always on the edge of her existence, she knows it’s futile.
But she tries.
The thing is, there’s no way you can ignore Piers Webb when he’s aiming that dark and deadly gaze your way.
She’s determined to keep him at a distance, until one night she has to pick him up on the side of a deserted road in the middle of nowhere. That one moment of need on his end is all she needs to realize a few things.
He’s as scary as he wants her to believe, and killing a man and disposing of a body is a daily practice for him.
She should run so far in the opposite direction, because he has so many red flags, even a toddler wouldn’t be able to ignore them.
But she’s always proven she makes bad decisions.
But Piers Webb is going to be the best bad decision she’s ever made
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Prologue
Once I put two and two together, I got something 4 your ass.
—Webber to Copper
WEBBER
The feeling when I was introduced to my club brother’s wife’s sister, Silver, felt like an electric jolt went straight through my body.
I even flinched at the jolt.
There she was, all that black hair and big, cornflower blue eyes, and she was physically impossible not to stare at.
“She’s seriously the best person I know,” Aella, Chevy’s wife, said. “I don’t think that she has a bad day ever.”
I swallowed hard and had to physically turn my body so that I didn’t keep staring at her.
“She doesn’t look like you at all,” I pointed out the obvious.
Chevy’s eyes caught mine, and I could tell that he was studying me closely.
Chevy, being a doctor and an anesthesiologist at that, he studied micro movements all day long.
He could tell that something was wrong.
Yet, he stayed at his woman’s side with his arm curled around her waist, holding her close.
“That’s another awesome thing,” Aella chattered on endlessly. “My sister and I are sisters, but not twins. My mom’s body released two eggs. Then she was with two different men in a few-day period unprotected. One of the men got my mom pregnant with me. The other got my mom pregnant with Silver.”
Aella’s mom got pregnant by our club brother, Cakes.
But if Cakes wasn’t Silver’s dad, who was Silver’s dad?
“Barry Donahue is Silver’s dad,” Aella continued to chatter. “You know him?”
I clenched my teeth.
I knew him.
Everyone knew Barry Donahue.
A disgusting excuse for a human being.
Not that I would tell Aella that.
Chevy and I connected gazes again across the top of Aella’s head, and I gave an almost imperceptible nod.
No, I would not be mentioning what kind of garbage Barry was.
I would keep my mouth shut.
I wouldn’t say a word, and maybe the topic would never come up.
I turned away from Chevy again, but when I did, my eyes automatically went to Silver again.
Silver Donahue.
Motherfucker.
What were the odds that Chevy would bring in someone related to that piece of filth?
Silver’s eyes suddenly looked up and she caught me staring at her.
She smiled, and I had no choice but to look away, or she’d see my frown.
My phone rang in my pocket, and I thanked the good lord that I had a distraction that could take me out of the room.
I softened minutely when I saw who it was that was calling.
“Eedie,” I said to my seventeen-year-old daughter. “Where are you?”
“Dad,” Eedie said, frustration clear in her voice. “You’re never going to believe this, but he took my car again!”
He.
Gritting my teeth, I steeled my spine and said, “Where are you?”
“Mom’s house,” she grumbled. “Mom doesn’t care, either. She said that she pays the gas that goes in it, so there’s no reason he can’t use it.”
“He” being her stepfather.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” I murmured. “Don’t cause a scene. You know how she gets.”
Eedie knew how she got.
We’d been dealing with Eedie’s mom’s bullshit for as long as I could remember.
It was my bad luck that I’d accidentally gotten her pregnant even though she was on birth control and I had been using a condom.
Not that I could complain about the aftereffect.
Having Eedie was the best thing to ever happen to me.
I loved Eedie more than life, and dealing with her mother was one hundred percent worth it if I got my baby girl in the end.
“I’ll be over soon,” I repeated when Eedie didn’t agree. “Don’t instigate a fight.”
“I’ll try,” she grumbled.
“But first I’m going to stop by and get your car.”
I did just that, too.
I found the car at the local home improvement store closest to where Eedie lived with her mother in Frisco.
Parking my bike around the corner of the store, I got off and walked to Eedie’s car—a 1993 Chevy Camaro.
It wasn’t a brand new car, but it wasn’t a shit car, either.
It’d been restored by my own hands, and I’d been contemplating selling it when Eedie had asked if she could have it.
Since I’d been needing to start looking for a car for her anyway, I’d agreed, and she’d been driving it for a year now with me when I had her.
She’d turned seventeen a few months ago, and so far, the car had worked out well for her.
Now, if I could only get it to stop working out well for her stepfather…
I started the Camaro up with a throaty roar and started out of the parking lot, heading toward Eedie’s mom’s house.
When I got there, Eedie was on the porch steps waiting for me.
She hopped up and came rushing toward me.
I pocketed the keys and said, “We’ll wait for him to get here.”
Eedie breathed a sigh of relief. “I swear I hid the key.”
“He probably had another one made,” I pointed out. “Your keys are still where you left them?”