Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
He grimaces. “There’s been a lot of activity in the club tonight. King’s staying in his quarters to deal with shit, and I think she can tell something’s going on. When she finally fell asleep, I didn’t have the fucking heart to put her down. She’s getting big so goddamn fast. Feels like we only got days until she’s out there getting in trouble, and I wanna hang onto her while I fucking can. Who’s your friend?” He glances my way, obviously noticing that I look like I got into a fight with the ground and lost. I bet I’m a sight.
“This is Melody. She got hurt at the rally and needed a place to crash for the night. Melody, this is Wild Child, and—”
“Hero,” the bigger one says with a nod. “I’ll go make sure the spare room is ready. You need anything in particular?”
“What? No, I’m fine, I’m already inconveniencing you enough with showing up—”
“Bullshit. We should have some spare toothbrushes. I’ll get you one, and a towel. The bathroom’s at the end of the hall. Should be plenty of soap and shit to choose from. Be right back.”
Overwhelmed, I sit on the edge of their couch. What the heck is happening? I feel like I fell through the looking glass. Outside this house is a fortress in the middle of the city, and yet in here, they’re a cozy little family. There are pictures on the wall of Emily, three different men, and two kids. It could be a blended family that just works really well together, but that’s not the impression I’m getting.
I’m too tired to think. “Thank you so much. I think I’m going to sleep. I’ll get out of your hair as soon as I can, okay?”
“I told you, as long as you like.” Emily gives my arm a squeeze. “And if there’s anything you want to talk about, we can do that tomorrow, too. I’ll get you a nightgown, just leave your dirty clothes outside your door when you’re changed. You can shower if you want, but don’t get your hair wet quite yet.”
She shows me the way to a little room, just big enough for a single bed, a nightstand, and an old dresser with a mirror on top. On autopilot, I grab the towel Hero left on the bed and hop quickly in the shower before closing myself in the bedroom and collapsing on the bed. There’s a wireless charger on the nightstand under a lamp, so I grab my phone.
There’s a text from Rebel. “Glad to hear it. And it was our pleasure, trust me. If you’re ever in town again, look us up.”
This counts as a lot more than in town. I wonder if they’re inside the clubhouse somewhere right now. It’s tempting to send a message, but I’ll make that decision in the morning when I’m not about to collapse. I slip under the blankets, accidentally knocking my backpack onto the floor. It hits with a heavy thud that doesn’t sound quite right.
“What the…” I lean over the edge of the bed, hook a finger in the carry loop, and drag it closer.
Digging through the sunscreen, water bottle and other random stuff I thought I would need, my fingers bump into something cold and hard. Like metal. What the heck?
As soon as my hand wraps around it, my stomach twists.
I pull it out and carefully put it on the bed.
A small, easily concealable gun that is definitely not mine.
9
MELODY
I’m eating breakfast with Emily, trying to forget that I’ve brought a gun into her house. “This is delicious.” I smile after a big swallow, chasing it down with a swig of orange juice.
Emily laughs. “They’re just eggs. Hey, Chloe! Food stays on your plate!”
Chloe’s little huff of indignation sounds way too adult for her five years. She picks her toast up off the table and dumps it back on her plate. “But then it gets the yellow stuff on it,” she whines.
Hero reaches over and puts the toast on the other side of her plate, away from the eggs. Seeing a guy like him do something so simple for his little girl makes me feel all squishy inside. Like I might want this some day.
It takes Chloe a few more minutes, and then she’s out of her seat and running to the living room where she was given permission to watch TV. I met her son, Liam, too. A ball of energy shaped like a ten-year-old boy. He sat down for about thirty seconds, inhaling his food before running out the door to play with a kid named Dante.
Wild Child wanders downstairs, yawning. He tugs playfully on Chloe’s hair before joining us in the kitchen and seamlessly taking over making his own eggs while Emily sits down to eat. “Not to get into too many details with little ears around, but we’re going to want you to come by the clubhouse and answer a few questions about yesterday.”