Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
I strapped on my holster and picked up my keys. She packed her bag, slid into her jacket, then stepped into me like she cherished being in my space. Hands flat on my chest. Eyes on mine. “I choose you,” she stated again, not for drama, for record-keeping.
“I heard you,” I replied. Then because she deserved more than the grunt of a man who doesn’t know how to give words without feeling like he’s throwing knives, I added, “I choose you back.”
She kissed me like she was stamping that into something official. I wasn’t sure how to take that. Every passing moment with her I was only digging my grave deeper in shame and guilt.
We walked out to my bike. Her helmet went on—chin strap tug, click. Mine after. I swung my leg over and she climbed on behind, knees bracketing my hips, arms sliding around me like they live there now.
The engine caught and the road pulled us forward. I checked the mirrors the whole first mile out of habit, half expecting Cat’s car to tail, half expecting a cruiser to pull out from behind a side road with a ticket that was really a message. Nothing. Just sky and asphalt and a woman against my back who had heard the worst parts of me and hadn’t moved an inch.
At a light, I felt her mouth close to my ear through the helmet. “Hey.”
“Yeah?”
“She said you’ll ruin me.”
The light turned green. I rolled us through it. “I might, but I don’t want to,” I told her honestly. I didn’t know if it was a promise or a prayer, but I meant it like both.
“Good,” she responded, settling in. “Because I plan on ruining you first.”
I barked a laugh that turned a head in the next lane. “Too late,” I told her, and let the throttle out.
We moved like a single decision down the highway, wind in our teeth, trouble on our flank, and something new under my ribs that looked enough like faith I didn’t try to shake it.
Cat was wrong about one thing and right about another. I had been playing house. But the thing about houses? You can reinforce them. You can add locks and braces and a beam where the roof sags. You can decide that what’s under that roof is worth the fight it brings to your door.
I was an outlaw. I was also a man who had a son in a cage and a woman on his back who believed I could pick the lock on two impossible doors at once.
So I did what I know.
I rode. I planned. I held on.
And when the storm came, because it always does, I knew exactly who I was going to be standing next to when it broke.
Chapter 15
IvaLeigh
I was already exhausted by the time I left class. My professor had given back our midterms, and even though I’d done fine, my head wasn’t in it. Every line of red pen reminded me of the bigger fight gnawing at the edges of my life—the one I couldn’t put on paper or solve with a library session.
I kept my head down as I crossed the courtyard. The air smelled like wet leaves, sharp with the first bite of winter. I should have been thinking about deadlines, papers, the friends who’d stopped asking me to go out weeks ago. Instead, I was thinking about Gabriel Gonzo Gonzales and how in such a short time he captivated my entire world.
About his arms around me at night. About the way he kissed me like nothing else in the world mattered. About the warnings Catalina had thrown like knives in my face two weeks ago.
And about the voice in my head that whispered: You’re in too deep, IvaLeigh. You’re not built for his world.
I pushed the thoughts down and swiped my key card to the building, heading for my apartment
When the door swung open, he was already there.
Hampton Stanley. I had met him once before when he came to the house to meet with my father.
He sat in Darla’s desk chair like it belonged to him, one ankle crossed over his knee, his suit too crisp for a college dorm room. His hair was perfect, his smile sharper than any knife.
“Miss Walsh,” he opened smoothly. “We should talk.”
My heart thudded once, hard, but I forced my face into something calm. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to save you some trouble.” He gestured to the chair across from him. “Sit.”
“I’ll stand,” I countered, my voice tight.
His smile widened like I’d proven a point for him. “Suit yourself. I imagine you’re wondering who the man in your bed really is.”
My stomach clenched, but I didn’t move.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, voice lowering like he was telling me a bedtime story. “Mr. Gonzales isn’t who you think. He’s not some misunderstood protector. He’s an outlaw. A criminal. The president of the Saint’s Outlaws motorcycle club, a man who’s shed more blood than you want to count. And you know why he’s with you? Because your father sentenced his son to life in prison. You are his target. You are his leverage. You are a pawn in a grown man’s game.”