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)
“If I let it go into foreclosure, it’ll ruin my credit.” Something he didn’t care about because the man probably didn’t have any. If she had to guess, he paid for everything in cash.
A really scary look came over his face. “What the fuck’s more important? Your life or your fuckin’ credit? Your credit gonna raise your son?”
No, it wasn’t.
One of the positives to this deal was, if she took his offer, once Vic was released from prison, he wouldn’t know where she lived. The house wouldn’t be in her name and if he needed to get a hold of her because of their son, he could go through her attorney.
“Then sell it, ‘cause you ain’t goin’ back there. No reason to keep it.”
She didn’t even know the guy and here he was trying to control her life. “What about my stuff?”
“Know a guy who’s got a movin’ company.”
Of course he did. “You want strangers to pack my stuff? All my personal belongings?”
“Said you ain’t goin’ back there.”
“You said that, not me.” She couldn’t deny it would be smart to unload the house. It was too big and too expensive for her and Wren alone. She needed a smaller place with a reasonable mortgage payment. She was tired of struggling to maintain her marital home. One that also held bad memories.
While she had done her best for years, it was time to admit defeat. “Stone…”
“Babe…” He pulled in a breath through flared nostrils, then he ground out, “That asshole knows where you live. He might be gettin’ out any fuckin’ time now. You ain’t goin’ back there.”
“But—”
“Will get a coupla prospects to supervise the movin’ crew.”
“Great,” she said dryly. “Where am I storing all of my stuff?” She would need it for her next home since, if she took his offer, she’d only be watching his daughter until he found someone else to permanently take over.
Her involvement would only be temporary.
“Got a trailer out back at the clubhouse that we can empty and use to store your shit. This way, you need it? It’s within reach. Better yet, ain’t gonna cost you a damn thing.”
“You have all the answers, don’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Are those answers always right?”
“Yeah.”
At the time, she had rolled her eyes at his cocky answer. Now, she rolled them at the memory.
But he was correct about one thing: Vic knew where she and Wren lived since he had also lived there previously. Of course, he didn’t know where Stone lived, or that they would be temporarily staying with him.
That could work to her benefit. After what he did to her in front of his own damn son, Vic did not deserve to know where they relocated. Wren had been so traumatized, she had to take him to therapy for months, despite her money already being stretched thin. But it had been worth every pinched penny since Wren was almost back to his happy, little boy self.
Her only worry was how Wren would react when he came face-to-face with Vic again. Something they might not be able to avoid if her ex’s supervised visitation was approved.
Her stomach churned.
As a mother, she wanted to protect Wren as best as she could. Even if it was from his own father.
They were almost at the end of the village when Stone said, “Last one on the right.”
The house was definitely dated on the outside. She hoped it was a similar case like the former school and was much better on the inside.
“Pull up to the garage.” The cracked macadam driveway ended at a detached two car garage behind the house but sat off to the right.
“Every time you come home, want you parkin’ in the garage. Best to keep your cage out of view.”
“I doubt Vic will be tooling through Dead Man’s Hollow.”
“Never know. He could hire someone to find you.”
Well, that was terrifying.
She can’t believe the man she married, the man she had loved, the man she chose to have a child with, turned out to be so unstable.
“I’ve been meaning to ask: why do you call cars a cage?”
“Bikers are only really fuckin’ free when we’re on two wheels. When we’re outrunnin’ the rain, got the wind in our face, and chasin’ a sunset. To a true biker, bein’ inside a vehicle with four wheels is like bein’ locked up.”
“Makes sense,” she murmured, shutting off her Honda. “But being inside a car means you won’t get rained on. You could open a window if you need air and sunsets can be chased in a variety of ways.”
He sucked on his teeth. “Find yourself a biker and you’ll get it.”
She would not be finding herself a biker. The one she was dealing with currently was more than enough. “Do you want me to pull into the garage now?”
“Ain’t gonna be here long. Gotta pick up your baby bird.”