Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 77961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“Sure you don't wanna stay for the show? You seem to like it.”
It's tempting. The way she moves is hypnotizing. I’m far too straight to be her target audience, but it’s still beautiful and impressive in its own way. “No. Maybe another night.”
He grins. “I think I’m going to like cashing in this rain check. Come on, let's get you in bed.”
We go deeper into the bar, but along the outside edge instead of down into the booths around the stage. There's a door with a security pad. Diesel pulls out a little plastic fob that he waves close to the panel, then punches in a quick code. A little light turns green and he pushes the door open, holding it for me.
“Fancy for a biker strip club.”
“We take security pretty seriously around here. Believe it or not, we aren’t exactly universally loved.”
I smile, keeping it to myself that while I’m definitely not the most dangerous person here, I might be the biggest security risk.
“We own the whole building and rebuilt it a while ago, after… well, after one of the reasons we need security. Gives us some room outside the clubhouse.” The door clicks shut behind us and I hear the lock kick in with a mechanical whir. “No elevator, unfortunately. Old building, and it wasn't practical to try to install one in the middle of it. Third floor.”
He opens the door to his apartment the same way as downstairs, and shows me into a small apartment. I was expecting the worst, but it’s actually pretty cozy. Very much still a guy’s space, though. Leather couch and a huge TV dominate the living area, with several game systems and controllers underneath. Motorcycle pictures and artsy nudes on one wall, and a frame with a picture of a pretty woman and a redheaded boy on the TV table. His mother, maybe? Pretty sure that might be him as a boy, maybe ten or twelve. The kitchen area is tiny but clean aside from a couple of empty beer bottles pushed together at one end of the counter.
“Bathroom’s over there, and the bedrooms through the other door,” he explains, gesturing. “That’s the grand tour. Nothing fancy, but the water pressure’s good and the sheets are clean. Take a shower if you want, and I'll find you a spare towel.”
I put my backpack down on the floor. “That sounds amazing.”
And it is. The shower feels like heaven. The water's hot and comes down in powerful streams that purge the grime and ash from my body. My little bag of carry-on toiletries isn’t great, but it’s enough to get my teeth clean and my face washed. I get a tired wolf whistle from the couch when I walk out with just the towel wrapped around me, but he seems mostly interested in getting himself clean, too. Not wanting to just take his bedroom without at least talking about it first, I sit on his couch and pull my legs up. My intention is to wait for him to finish, but as soon as I rest my head on my arm, I’m out like a light.
8
DIESEL
I wake up to a soft noise in the bedroom. Senses on full alert, I slip my hand down the side of the bed and wrap my fingers around the butt of the gun I keep between the mattress and the box spring.
The noise happens again and I realize a few key details. First, I carried Rory into bed when I found her asleep on the couch, and I intended to go back into the living room and crash, but apparently I never made it. And second, she’s crying.
“Rory?” I reach out and run the backs of my fingers over her bare arm. The towel must’ve fallen off in the night when she moved around because she’s bare ass naked in my bed. Shit. I grit my teeth and try to avoid thinking too hard about that. “Wake up, baby.”
She curls in on herself, whimpering. I do what feels natural, which is to wrap myself around her, pulling her in with one arm and stroking her hair with the other. She’s shivering, but I don’t think she’s cold. Little by little, she relaxes, and I inhale, smelling my body wash on her skin. The sharp pine scent doesn’t match her personality if you ask me, but part of me does like knowing that I’ve marked her in some way.
“Diesel?” She jerks as she wakes up enough to sense what’s happening. Her fingers grip my arm, pushing it away for a second before pulling me closer.
“Just a bad dream, honey,” I murmur into her hair.
“But it’s not, is it?” she asks quietly in the darkness. When she turns to face me, there are tear tracks down her pretty cheeks. “It all happened.”