Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Daisy smirked. “I think you’re wrong. If that man goes all in with a woman, he’ll take care of her. In every way.” She wriggled her eyebrows.
Amka laughed. She’d been on her own for so long, she didn’t want to feel like that forever. Was it possible? Christian was a lone wolf except for his brothers and for hero moments. He sacked out wherever he could find a bed, didn’t have a car, and wasn’t looking for work. While he was a much better person than Jarod, he wasn’t exactly stable. She most certainly needed stable and constant. Somebody she could count on at all times. “Thank you for being my lawyer, and you’re welcome to use this corner of the tavern as your office as long as you want, but I do expect to be billed for the work.”
Daisy sat back. “How about we exchange my work for use of the bar as my office?”
“It’s not the same. You have to bill me something.” Amka turned to head back to work, her body aching. It was going to be a long night.
Chapter 11
The rain came down hard, drilling and punishing, pounding the roof in a steady rhythm that masked most other sounds. Water gushed from the eaves in thick sheets, pooling along the gravel alley and soaking everything that wasn’t under cover. Christian stood tucked beneath the narrow overhang on the side of the tavern, one boot braced against the wall, his arms crossed tight to stay warm. His jacket collar was damp, and water still tracked down the back of his neck.
He felt like a fucking idiot, but he wasn’t leaving.
The sky was pitch black, the clouds thick and low enough to feel like a lid. No stars, no moon—just rain and the constant hum of runoff sliding through the gutters and hitting the earth with dull splashes.
The smoke lingered in the air, though the rain had drowned most of the smell. He looked over at the remains of the storage building. The fire had gutted it completely, leaving nothing but a heap of blackened wood and collapsed metal sheeting. Someone should clean that up. He wasn’t sure what they were waiting for. Then again, he hadn’t asked.
The door to Sam’s Tavern opened with a sharp creak, spilling weak yellow light onto the wet ground. Amka stepped out first, followed by Doc May and Wyland Friday.
Christian pushed away from the wall. It was two in the morning. Nobody had any business being out, least of all Amka. Of course, he was there waiting to make sure she made it home safely. What was wrong with him? He didn’t have room in his life for a woman, and that one was taken.
May stopped short when she saw him. “Are you guarding the place?”
“I was just walking by.” His voice sounded rough in the storm, even to him.
May stood close to Amka and Wyland, and the way her shoulders stayed tense made him think she expected one of them to collapse. The doctor clearly appeared exasperated. “I’ve been telling Amka to go home for hours, but she wouldn’t listen. I swear, the patients in this town are the worst.”
Wyland snorted, then hiccupped. “I totally agree.”
May rounded on him. “You have arthritis. You need your sleep. It’s too late for you to be out, and you should not be drinking doubles like that.”
“You sound like a cranky schoolmarm,” Wyland muttered.
“I’m your doctor. That’s my job,” May grumbled, the rain matting her blonde hair to her head.
Amka glanced back inside the window, where a trio of fisherman could be seen still drinking beer. “I should close up and not leave Daisy to do it.”
May waved a hand. “Daisy’s happy to do it, and they’re tipping like drunks. Stop worrying about it.”
Christian studied his three charges. May looked pissed yet solid. Wyland was running on pride and stubbornness. But Amka swayed slightly, not from the wind. Her face had gone pale, and the dark circles under her eyes showed a woman pushing herself way too hard.
“I’ll drive you home,” he said, looking at her.
May slid her shoulder beneath Wyland’s arm, taking some of his weight. Rain tracked down both of their faces. “I was planning to give them both a ride, but if you don’t mind taking Amka, that would be great. We’re headed the other direction.”
Christian nodded once. The Fridays lived upriver, past the last gravel turnoff. Their land had been there longer than the town. “Sounds good.”
Amka made a noise and opened her mouth as if to argue, and Christian lowered his chin, meeting her gaze evenly.
She fell silent.
The hair on the back of Christian’s neck rose. He paused, eyes narrowing, the downpour hammering against the roof and ground in deafening sheets.
A shot cracked through the storm.
He turned instantly, lunged, and drove the group to the ground just as another round ripped through the space where they’d been standing. Water exploded off the gravel. The sound of the rain masked the direction of the gunfire, echoing off buildings, cars, metal.