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)
“If you have no other plans, I figured the sooner, the better.”
“We can leave right now if you want,” Dylan said.
“Well, we need to book the rooms first. But probably tomorrow.”
“Great. Let me know. I’m heading out.”
She grabbed Sugar’s leash and was gone before anyone could say anything else. And since it was still the middle of the day, I went ahead and let her have her space.
“What’d you do?” Raff asked as soon as she was gone.
“Nothing.”
There must have been a false note, though, because Slash leveled a look at me that said he wasn’t going to let it go until he got an answer.
So I gave him one.
Just not the full one.
“She didn’t love that I attacked her motel neighbor when he didn’t want to take ‘fuck off’ as an answer,” I admitted.
I’d felt that kind of rage exactly once before in my life.
Back when I realized the two people I trusted most in the world had been breaking that trust behind my back for months.
That rage had distinct sensations I’d never experienced before—or since—until the night before.
The way my vision went fuzzy around the edges.
How my saliva tasted and burned like battery acid.
The way something sizzled in my veins.
How there wasn’t a single thought in my mind but making him pay for what he’d done.
I could have killed that guy.
I might have killed that guy.
If Dylan hadn’t stepped in.
In general, I considered myself a pretty temperate guy. I didn’t have some kind of rage disorder. I got angry, sure, but in a detached sort of way. It didn’t feel personal to me.
And aside from the brutal beating of my former best friend, I never lost control of myself.
I’d been up half the night trying to figure out why that one bastard had elicited that kind of reaction from me.
I couldn’t come up with anything logical.
Sure, I hated when men were pushy with women. Who didn’t?
But I’d dealt with that before without having to nearly strangle a guy to death.
So the only thing I could conclude was that it was because of Dylan. Her personally. A woman fully capable of taking care of herself. Yet she somehow evoked an overwhelming protectiveness in me.
It made no sense.
So I stopped trying to analyze it and just let it exist.
I figured working side by side with Dylan on this job would help me sort through some shit.
So I went ahead and volunteered to research and book the hotel rooms.
Since no one else was interested in the task, there was no reason for them to suspect ulterior motivations.
Like finding a hotel with connecting rooms.
Two for Saint and Syn.
Two for Dylan and me.
Would she probably make sure the deadbolt and latch were fastened at first? Sure. But I had a feeling she would soften eventually.
I was working on packing my bag when someone cleared their throat in my doorway.
And there was Saint.
“What’s up?” I asked when he just leaned on the doorjamb, shooting a look in my direction that I didn’t know well enough yet to interpret.
“Syn got his room confirmation,” he said.
“Good. I sent it to him.”
“He and I got a connecting room, huh?” he asked, lips twitching ever so slightly. “I figure I can guess who you plan to be connected to.”
“It’s—” I started to object.
“It’s absolutely like that,” he cut me off. “And far be it from me to question where someone dips their wick, man. I just want to make sure you’re not gonna do something stupid like fuck up this job.” I straightened at that, ready to throw my seniority in his face. “And don’t feed me shit about being new to the club. Because I think we both know that in our past lives, I was a shot caller and you were an order follower.”
“Might be true,” I agreed. “But that was then. This is now. And now, there’s a club hierarchy. No matter how much you want to bypass it.”
I expected him to clap back.
But his lips curved up instead.
“There you go. Just checking.”
“Checking what?”
“To make sure I wasn’t taking orders from someone who’s never had to make a decision in his life.”
I hated how accurate those words were. Because, yeah. I’d gone from under my parents’ thumbs to right into the military, where I was told what to wear, when to eat, and what to do… every day of my life. The only real decisions I’d ever made for myself were divorcing my wife and beating the shit out of my best friend. Not exactly a glowing record.
“It’d be different if it was just you and me. But I’m trusting you to make the right decisions for my brother. I take that shit seriously.”
“I get it,” I said, nodding.
I wouldn’t pretend to understand the depth of their connection. The sibling relationship that was also somehow like a father/son one and a boss/employee one. That said, anyone who saw the two of them together could see how seriously Saint took his protection of his little brother. And how much Syn looked up to Saint.