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)
“Fucking perfect.” Bull gestures at the table. “Grab yourself something and have a seat. We need a fourth. Poker is the game.”
I shake my head. “I shouldn’t. I’m working.”
“Aw, c’mon.” Diesel’s flirty smirk invites me to do mischief. “What those fancy assholes up front don’t know won’t hurt ‘em.”
“Well…” Poker would be fine, right? I take a bottle of fizzy water and inch closer to the empty seat in their section.
Shrapnel sweeps the cards together and shuffles them. Butterfly and bridge, like in a casino. Not his first time. “You know how to play, right? We’d be happy to teach you.”
It’s my turn to smirk. My old boarding school prided itself on not allowing screen time outside of classwork. With very little else to do, they might as well have been trying to turn us all into card sharks. It’s definitely not Diesel’s first time at a table, but I still wouldn’t be surprised if I’ve played more than they have. “I think I remember the rules.”
“We’ll go easy on you, angel,” Bull says. He pops an olive in his mouth and grins. I don’t know how, but he manages to make it sound a little dirty.
Shrapnel pats the free chair next to him. “Then sit your pretty ass down. Some things are more fun in a group and it’s always more fun with a beautiful woman.”
I throw a quick glance towards the front of the plane. We have a couple hours at least, and I know Dad will want to keep me out of sight as much as possible. The chances of getting called back to the front are slim at best.
“Okay. Deal me in.”
2
BULL
Got her. Maybe now things will get interesting.
Shit, I know flying like this is first class luxury, but I’ll take the wind in my face and grit on my skin any day. Planes are just big metal waiting rooms in the sky, if you ask me. Rory’s a cute little thing, with her white blonde hair and those dove gray eyes. Shrapnel’s right. Things are always more fun with a beautiful woman.
The bloody faces of the guys we were in town to rough up flash through my mind, and it makes me pause. Okay, maybe not always, but those fuckers weren’t exactly innocent, and we didn’t even kill anybody. Doing favors for the mob never sits quite right with me, but the Screaming Eagles and the Giordanos go back for years now. They’re not bad for a bunch of stuck up suits. When you think about it, this was practically a paid vacation, and as much as I love our Prez, Eagle-eye wouldn’t have gotten us spots on a private jet.
Shrapnel deals and Rory picks up her cards, glancing at them before putting them back down like a pro. Her eyes flit between the three of us. A little nervous. A little curious. There’s more to her than meets the eye and I like it. Not that anyone that works for Connor fucking Whittaker would normally give us the time of day. Especially one that looks as good as her.
“Been working for Whittaker long?” I toss three cards and replace them.
She wets her red lips. “A few years.”
I can't help myself from following the motion of her tongue, already imagining it sliding along the ridge of my cock. She looks real fucking good in that uniform. Maybe I’m no better than the guy in the hall, but at least I know to keep it a God damned inside thought.
Diesel takes a swig of beer. “He a decent boss? The papers make him sound like an asshole.”
Rory’s eye twitches. “He’s okay, but I—I really shouldn’t talk about him. He’s a very private person.”
“Fair enough.” I can respect loyalty. “Should I report that dickhead for you?”
“What dickhead?” Shrapnel asks. Diesel’s head goes up, eyes on me.
“Someone’s henchman was trying to buy his way into the mile high club and wasn’t happy about taking no for an answer.”
Rory’s eyes go wide. “Seriously? You think that’s why he was being like that?”
“I think it’s sweet that you don’t.”
She cleans up the first two hands, easy. With each win, her confidence grows and she gets a little cocky. “Are all bikers this bad at poker?”
“Oh, now you’re going down, little lady,” Diesel says with a sharp grin.
Play turns serious, and while I get lucky on two pairs, and Shrapnel takes a round on a single ace when no one gets shit for cards, Rory still takes the lion's share of the hands. Our shy kitten knows how to play, that's for fucking sure. I'm intrigued.
I drain my glass and take a bite out of the celery stick Rory found for me. If she's worked for Whittaker for a couple years, then she's got to have seen some shit. “So is the mile high club a real thing?”