Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 50619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 202(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 202(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Angel leaned against Vex’s powerful chest and couldn’t stop smiling. Vex pressed a kiss to the curve of her neck. His beard and mustache tickled her in a familiar way both reassuring her she was safe and tantalizing her sensitive nerve-endings. Angel now understood how Lucien had earned such loyalty. She was part of this huge crazy family of bikers, and she never wanted to be anywhere else.
Street parked his bike three blocks from the hole-in-the-wall drinking establishment Lucien had sent him to check out. At the bar, he ordered a bottle of beer and slowly scanned the room as he took a few long drinks. The dive was a rough place. He could see how the Ravagers would choose this place. No one asked questions in this dicey place if they valued their safety.
He set his bottle down on the bar to free his hands when a skirmish started a couple of stools down the bar. When he turned back around, a busty blonde with blue eyes snuggled next to him, batting impossibly long eyelashes. Street preferred a more natural look—one that appeared more comfortable.
“Hey, handsome. Want to buy me a drink?” she asked.
“Sorry, miss. I’m waiting for my old lady.”
“Maybe she got delayed. I’m here now.”
“I appreciate the interest, but….” Street let his voice drift away.
A crash behind him made him rotate to face the threat. “Oops! Sorry!” A woman apologized behind him. She waved a helpless hand at the smashed beer stein on the concrete floor.
No one moved to clean up the glass and spilt liquid. No wonder his boots stuck to the floor. Shaking his head, Street retrieved his beer, noticing the blonde had moved on to speak to another man at the bar. He lifted the bottle to his lips, and a hand stopped him.
Street looked straight into the prettiest brown eyes. The bar employee shook her head. “Don’t drink that,” she whispered under her breath.
“Rosa! What are you doing? We’re running out of ice. Stop flirting with the customers and go get another bucket,” a grizzled, old man yelled from the office door just around the corner. The open door signaled the owner or manager kept a close eye on either his clientele or his customers. Or both.
“Sorry, Joe. On it!” Rosa leaned down to pick up the bucket at her feet. Her voice carried to Street as she spoke toward the floor. “They put something in your drink. Get out of here.”
A wave of dizziness hit as Street stood. He stiffened his spine, struggling to hold his shit together. On the way to the door, he steadied himself against the walls. A couple of women asked if he was okay and tried to wrap their arms around him. Street extricated himself from them as he quickened his pace to the door.
The cool night air revived him a bit. A wave of nausea hit him, and he vomited a vile-tasting liquid on the front steps as people hurried out of his way. Street didn’t stop or respond to their jokes or offers of assistance. Scanning the people gathered outside, he noted a group of men in leather jackets to the right.
Instantly, he headed left. Shouts followed him. Street ducked into an alley to find somewhere to hole up until his head cleared. An arm wrapped around his waist, and his fist came up clenched. He barely stopped himself from belting the woman with the dark eyes.
“They’re coming. Let me help you.”
He was in trouble. Street decided quickly to trust the woman who’d warned him. One more drink of that concoction would have either killed him or knocked him out. He let her guide him through several streets, turning repeatedly as if they were going in circles.
“Where’s your bike?” she asked.
“Front Street and Third. I can’t drive,” Street admitted, as he struggled to stay on his feet. He could hardly see as he staggered next to her.
“Give me the keys. I’ll drive.”
“No one drives my bike.”
“I will tonight unless you’re eager to get turned over to the Ravagers,” she told him, holding out her hand.
The mention of that MC sent an icy wave down Street’s spine. Lucien had wanted to send three of them to the bar. Street had insisted on going himself. The location was on his way from the tech place Angel had needed him to visit to grab some storage devices.
His fingers didn’t work as he fumbled with his pocket. Fuck! He was in bad shape.
Her hand pushed his away as she reached into his jeans. He wasn’t too far gone that he missed her accidental brush against his cock pressing against the tight denim. Street cursed himself for reacting to the woman who’d risked everything to save him.
“Shut up!” she snapped, and he realized he was talking out loud and not in his head. “Get on the bike. They’re coming.”