Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
3
I WAKE BEFORE DAWN, my head pounding. The room is still thick with shadows, the curtains drawn against the new day, but I force myself upright and glance at Reagan curled on the mattress, the entire blanket covering her. She’s oblivious to the hangover beating through my temples, and for a moment I envy her. I slip out of bed and pad downstairs, each step a jolt of nausea.
In the kitchen, Chief stands over the stove, flipping bacon, while Travis stirs something steaming in a saucepan. The air smells of sizzling grease and burnt coffee grounds—comforting scents, normally. I scrunch my nose and press my palms into the counter. “Ugh,” I murmur.
They turn in unison, grins already forming. “Not hungry?” Chief asks, his voice rough with amusement. “Thought you were an adult capable of handling things, guess alcohol wasn’t in the mix?”
I shoot him a glare. “Don’t be smart with me, old man. I might just murder you.”
He grins, winking at me before turning back to what he was doing.
Travis looks to me, his face relaxed and easy, as if last night simply did not happen. “You look like hell.”
“I’ll live,” I mutter. “I’m going to walk on the beach, I need fresh air.”
He nods but doesn’t turn. I avoid Travis’ stare and slip into the laundry room to change. Breath by breath, I lace up my shoes, pull on leggings and a long-sleeved top, steel myself against the throbbing in my head. Then I’m out the door, the brisk morning air hitting my face like a cold splash.
My legs find their rhythm as I walk down the quiet street. The sky is pale on the horizon, the world still hushed. With each stride, I feel the fog of last night’s drinking begin to lift, replaced by the steady thump of heart and muscles waking up. I taste freedom in the air—until it all goes wrong.
It’s strange how life can change so incredibly quickly.
It’s just a morning walk, after all.
I’m halfway past the old brick church, getting ready to cross the road to the beach, when an arm curls around my waist and jerks me off balance. A rough hand clamps over my mouth, another wraps cold fingers around my neck. My feet scramble against the pavement, but whoever has me is impossibly strong, pressing me into a slim alleyway between buildings. Panic surges hot and jagged.
“Ah, the infamous Mischief,” the voice rasps near my ear. “It’s about time we met.”
I thrash, trying to twist free, but he holds me like I’m weightless. He pulls his hand from my mouth and breathes in—his stubble grazing my cheek—and my stomach lurches. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you. Not yet. I want you to tell your dear old daddy—”
“Who are you?” I hiss, cutting him off.
He presses closer, and I taste metal on his breath. “Just tell Chief that he couldn’t hide from me forever. This is a warning—next time won’t be so nice. Tell him I’ll be seeing him soon...”
He tightens his grip around my throat until the world blurs, and I fight for each ragged inhale. “I...won’t...”
“When you wake up, my dear, remember this is a warning. Oh, and my name is Demon,” his fingers stay tight until the world goes black.
I wake on the ground, my body slumped in the dirt, my mind spinning. It takes me a moment to come around, to remember what just happened. I lie there, chest heaving, tasting blood and asphalt, dizzy from oxygen deprivation. Slowly, I push myself upright and start the slow stumble home.
I don’t want to be out here for a second longer.
When I bust out the back, where all the guys are sitting around a heap of broken-down cars, I do it loud enough to stop them in their tracks. They all turn, and it’s Chief whose eyes narrow as he throws his spanner down and walks over.
“What happened? Why is your mouth bleedin’, baby?”
I swallow around the lump in my throat. My neck burns from where his fingers dug in. “Someone attacked me on my run. He said something about telling you that he told you he would find you. Demon, or something. He said it was a warning.”
Chief’s jaw tightens, and he lets out a fierce curse. “Fuck.”
From behind, Travis’ voice slices the air. “Mischief, are you okay?”
I nod, somewhat numb.
He reaches out to stroke my bottom lip but stops when he realizes where we are. He turns to Chief. “Isn’t Demon someone you’ve had bad blood with for a fuckin’ long time?”
“Yeah,” Chief mutters.
“We got a problem, Pres?”
Sergeant of arms, Paulie, steps up beside Chief, his face dark with words unspoken. Chief looks to me, eyes blazing. “Travis, get her inside and make sure she’s okay. I’m goin’ to find that motherfucker.”
Chief leans down, cupping my chin and inspecting my face, before planting a kiss on my head and disappearing, at least six bikers following him out. Travis reaches for me, but I take a shaky step back.