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)
Then, pushing my neckline aside with his chin, his lips sucked near my collarbone. Hard. Throbbing. Marking me. But where no one else would see.
And just like that, the orgasm crashed. I cried out against his palm as the waves moved through me over and over before finally ebbing away.
Little by little, Colter moved his hand, then arms, away.
Before stepping to the side of me.
Like nothing at all had happened.
He reached for his phone and took a couple of pictures as I just stood there, staring at his profile as I tried to get my heartbeat and breath to slow down again.
“Shit,” Colter said.
And there was something fierce in his tone that had me straightening.
“What—” I started.
But then I heard it too.
Barking.
Roach had gotten dogs.
And someone had just pushed them out the door.
Without a leash or fence.
Colter looked at me, face tight.
Then he offered his hand.
I took it.
And we fucking booked it.
“Saint… Syn…” I panted as we ran.
“I saw them running between the trees,” Colter, not at all winded, declared. “If we hear snarling, we can turn back. But they can handle themselves. And they’re armed.”
My stomach lurched, hating the idea of any dog being hurt. But I imagined that if a dog was trying to rip out my throat, I would have to make that awful decision too.
I just hoped it didn’t come to that.
We ran at full tilt, but I got the idea that Colter was pacing himself so he didn’t drag me. Even so, I struggled to keep up. Little tree branches slapped and scraped at my cheeks. The ground was uneven under me, making me almost fall twice. The only reason I stayed upright was Colter’s hand yanking me upright.
We reached the bikes in half the time it took to walk from them, me having to bend forward, panting for breath, my face feeling on fire, my chest tight.
Colter was barely breathing heavy.
“What… if… they’re… lost?” I panted between gasps.
“Then at least they’re safe,” Colter said.
He’d kept his tone casual, but his shoulders were squared as he scanned the trees.
He was the senior brother on this job. He didn’t act like it. He even let Saint kind of take control at times. But it was his ass on the line if something happened to one of the brothers. To any of us. And that was clearly weighing on him.
I understood the weight of the mantle of leadership all too well.
I stepped forward, pressing a hand into his back as he stood watching the woods.
“They’re coming,” I told him, even though we both knew I had no idea.
Colter glanced over. And for a second, there was something so intense in his gaze it almost sent me back a step.
Then his arm went out, scooping around the back of my shoulders, and curling me into him.
What’s more, I let him.
He’d been there for me more than a few times now.
And some part of me really wanted to be there for him while he was stressing out.
Why?
I had no fucking idea.
But I was just rolling with it.
Two minutes turned into five. Then close to ten.
There was nothing but the rush of the wind and the chirps of crickets.
Then, lifting above everything else, a faint few whistled notes. A bit of a song, maybe, but trying not to sound too obvious.
Colter stiffened and whistled the same few notes back.
The next time the sound came, it seemed closer, like they’d turned toward Colter’s whistle.
I straightened, sliding out of Colter’s hold, and reaching for my holster to free my gun.
Maybe it was Saint and Syn.
But I wasn’t taking any chances either.
There was a crunch.
Then shadows moved closer.
“Thank fuck,” Colter said, shoulders dropping the weight they’d been holding up. “You good?”
“Bastard got my pants,” Syn said, gesturing down at his torn pant leg. But there didn’t seem to be any blood.
“Gonna shoot me, babe?” Saint asked, smirking when he eyed the gun in my hand.
“Haven’t decided yet,” I said, but gave him a relieved smile. “Did you lose them?”
“A while back, yeah.”
“What kind of dogs were they?” I asked.
“Hellhounds,” Syn grumbled, inspecting his leg, though I didn’t even see a scratch.
“Rotties,” Colter said.
“They sounded like demons. That rumbling shit they do,” Saint said, shaking his head.
“Do you think any of the guys were alerted?” I asked.
“Nah,” Saint said. “Figure maybe the dogs take off after some prey often enough that they didn’t think anything of all the noise.”
“Poor dogs,” I said, hating the idea of any living creature relying on someone like Roach for survival, let alone anything even close to affection.
“Hey, that poor dog wanted to rip my leg off,” Syn said, holding a grudge.
“If she wanted to, she would have bitten you,” Saint said. “She was close enough.”
“She?” I asked.
“She reared up when Syn waved a stick at her. Think the other was a male.”