Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77505 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77505 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“Home sweet home, I guess,” I said as I checked out the bathroom. It was full of chipped minty green tile and a matching sink and toilet.
But it actually looked relatively clean. No mold anywhere, at least. The toilet water was a dark blue and the hand soap still had plastic wrap around the neck.
It would have to do.
I left Sugar in the room and went to the van to grab some of our essentials.
It was on my third trip when the sun peeked out from behind a cloud, and a bright light caught my eye.
That’s when I saw them.
A line of motorcycles parked in a lot.
I’d written off the building when I’d first seen it.
It was an old, giant warehouse.
Except it wasn’t just that.
It was a clubhouse.
I’d found my bikers.
Maybe it was time to introduce myself.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Colter
“No shit,” Raff said with a laugh from behind me.
If he hadn’t spoken, I was pretty sure the woman and I would have stood there staring at each other forever.
There was the surprise of it all, sure.
But, fuck, she was even more beautiful in person.
Her dark hair was down this time, but with the sun shining down, it lit the strands of gold. I’d been right about her eyes. Dark. Brown. I could get lost in them for days.
She was dressed in black again. Black jeans and the same black leather jacket with a black bra under a mostly see-through black mesh shirt.
She smelled good too. Like coconut and pineapple.
“Are you on an IV?” she asked.
Damn.
I hadn’t expected that voice, either.
It had a slight huskiness to it. Sexy and sultry without even trying to be.
“Crazy thing,” Raff said. “Someone tried to kill us the other night.”
“Really? Imagine that,” she said.
“Then, crazier still, some hot chick with a sexy gun put a plug in one of those guys.”
“Wow. How generous of her,” the woman said.
“It would be rude of us not to let her in and offer her a drink,” Raff said, nodding.
He was already reaching for his phone, likely shooting off a text to Slash.
“Did I hear… oh,” Saint said, coming to a stop halfway into the room. His gaze zeroed in on the woman’s face, likely taking in the dark hair, eyes, cleft chin, and body I’d described. “Is that…”
“Yeah,” I said, finally taking a step back in a silent invitation.
Saint, more used to being a leader than the rest of us, strode forward and offered his hand to the woman.
“Saint Courtland,” he introduced himself. “That over there is Raff,” he said, gesturing. “And this is Colter.”
“Dylan,” she introduced herself. “And Sugar,” she said, gesturing down to the dog when Saint’s gaze slid there.
“This is Cat,” he said, waving toward the gray and white cat with the big blue eyes. “He hates women. I wouldn’t get too close.”
“How is he with dogs?” she asked, pulling her chocolate lab closer.
“He tolerates them if they’re not too pushy.”
She loosened the hold on the leash.
“Are you in charge here?” she asked Saint.
It was an easy assumption to make. Because back before he went to prison to save his brother the same fate, Saint had run his own operation for years. He still carried himself the way a boss might.
“I’m not,” Saint said. “But if I’m reading it right, Slash should be here any second. Can I get you something to drink? Eat? A bone for the dog?”
“No, we’re good.”
Her head turned, hearing the rumble of bikes suddenly making their way through Shady Valley and toward the clubhouse.
“Well, this is awkward,” Raff announced as the air seemed to grow thick.
I couldn’t force my gaze away from Dylan’s profile as she looked around the clubhouse, taking everything in.
Luckily for everyone, the bikes rumbled into the lot, and within a minute, the door burst open, and Slash, Detroit, Rook, and Sway made their way inside.
Sway looked Dylan up and down. “That was a good description,” he declared, nodding at me.
“So, you’re the president,” Dylan said, zeroing in on Slash. Either because he had the same leadership carriage as Saint. Or simply because his road name matched the scars on his face.
“So, you’re the woman who saved Colter’s life,” Slash responded.
“That’s why I’m here,” Dylan agreed.
“To shake me down?”
“To propose a… partnership,” Dylan said.
“Slash, this is Dylan. Dylan, Slash,” Saint made the introductions. “And Sugar.”
“Alright, with that outta the way,” Slash said, “what kind of partnership are you proposing?”
“Well, it seems like we have a common enemy now,” Dylan said.
“Roach,” Slash said. “Rodney Harris.”
To that, Dylan let out a snort of a laugh. “Roach suits him better.”
“So you know him.”
“More than you do,” Dylan said. “I was working on getting to know more when your guys made me blow my cover. Now they’re onto me.”
“You good?” Slash asked, his gaze tracking up and down her, looking for injuries.
“Thankfully, we were out for a walk when they showed up.”