Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 110721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
She squinted, trying to make out some of it without moving from the spot she was assigned.
Grim was here was written in what could be a black marker.
Beware the Ogre was painted in large letters on another wall.
Grim? Ogre? Was this place turned into a haunted house for Halloween? Because from what she saw so far, it would make a great one.
She twisted her head when she detected faint music at the far end of the hall. It took her a second to recognize Van Halen’s Hot for Teacher.
Once again, she wondered about the purpose of the building and why James Conrad used it as his address. She glanced down at the design on the floor again.
Kings of Anarchy. Pennsylvania. MC.
MC…
She should know what MC stood for, shouldn’t she? She hit the side button on her phone, lighting it up. Once she unlocked it, she immediately went to the browser to search for the letters “MC.” She scanned what the search engine brought up.
McDonald’s? No, it had nothing to do with the fast food chain.
Montgomery College? She glanced around and rolled her eyes. No.
Master of Ceremonies? Sigh.
Motorcycle club?
She blinked, then her fingers flew over the keyboard, typing: Kings of Anarchy MC.
Her eyes got wider with every word she read.
“Kings of Anarchy Motorcycle Club was established in the early 70s in southern California. They started patching over other clubs and expanding to more territories by the late 70s/early 80s. They now have established chapters in almost every state.
“Warning: This outlaw motorcycle club has created mayhem for decades. Their members are far from law-abiding and should be considered armed and dangerous. They’ve even adopted the motto: ‘Nobody fucks with the Kings.’”
Her ears starting ringing and her pulse raced.
Holy shit. She needed to leave. Now.
Thump, thump, thump.
Shit. Someone was coming. She needed to go.
As she spun to head out the way she came in, she froze when she spotted him.
James Conrad.
Chapter Three
His unbrushed hair looked like he just rolled out of bed. He wore a white tank top under a black leather vest similar to Patch’s. The difference between the two was that James could close his, if he chose. Which he probably didn’t, since his jeans were unfastened and his hand was jammed down the front. Was he scratching his balls?
Her feet remained frozen in place while his brown eyes sliced past her like she was invisible.
Until he did a double-take.
His eyes now bore into her as he continued to descend the stairs. The closer he got, the more a recognizable smell filled her nostrils. Someone had been—or still was—so pickled that the alcohol was seeping through his pores.
He wasn’t the only one descending the stairs. He was followed by two half-dressed women with just as messy hair. Though, calling them half-dressed was being charitable since one only wore a see-through panties and bra set and the other had on a tight mini-dress that barely covered her coochie and showed so much cleavage her nipples played peek-a-boo as she moved.
Now what Patch said made sense. “More like done with who.”
When James stopped at the bottom of the steps, both women paused by his side and each planted a kiss on his cheeks at the same time.
“Later, baby,” the brunette murmured.
“Repeat tonight?” the blonde purred, combing her long nails through his beard.
“Will let you know. Might got a job to do.” His voice sounded as rough as he looked. He squeezed their asses before giving each one a stinging slap. “Get goin’. Got business to attend to.”
The women’s attention turned toward her. Taryn gave them an awkward wave, causing the blonde to roll her eyes. Both continued down the hallway in the direction of where she and Patch had entered the school.
Only, they didn’t exit out that same door. Instead, they continued past it. She lost track of them when she heard a clearing of a throat and a grumbled, “Had a rough night.”
She had no idea why he was giving her an excuse. She guessed it was best not to ask.
Not my circus, not my monkeys.
Say what you have to say and go. You are way out of your element here.
She awkwardly threw her hands up at her sides and grimaced. “Remember me?”
With pursed lips, his narrowed gaze slowly and thoroughly slid over her. “Since I ended up in a concrete box for over a year with no wet pussy and only my dry fuckin’ fist, yeah. Hard to forget you.”
She could safely assume he wasn’t joking. “That’s why I’m here.”
“For what? Can’t get that fuckin’ time back.”
Shit. Her apology would never fix that.
“I wanted to thank—” The look he shot her made her swallow the rest. She pressed her lips together and once again glanced down the hallway in the direction the women had disappeared. “Well, since you’re busy…”
“Done bein’ busy.”
“I’m sure you have other things to…do,” she finished weakly. “I’ll give you your privacy. I only came here to thank you for intervening. And apologize for your arrest.”