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)
I’m glad Emily loaned me a jacket and a helmet. My scalp wound is a little sore, but it’s not right on top of my head, so the helmet isn’t putting too much pressure right on it. I can’t believe I just met them yesterday. It feels like we’ve been through so much already.
Letting myself read way too much into their attention is stupid, I know. I’ve seen how casual they are about sex. They think I’m fun for now, but in the long run, I’m just me. When I see how Emily and her men live, it looks amazing, but I also saw what it cost Mom to stick with Dad. Raising me on her own, with a man who showed up for a week and then vanished.
She must’ve thought it was worth it, but was it?
Mad Dog lifts a hand from his handlebars and covers mine with it. I didn’t notice how cold my fingers had gotten until I feel the heat from his palm. I give him a little hug in thanks. I wonder if he notices.
As we get closer to home, I start to regret suggesting this. It feels like crossing two streams that were never meant to meet. People turn to look when we roll through the center of town. I keep my eyes down and my face buried in Mad Dog’s back. Hopefully nobody recognizes me. Everything looks smaller and shabbier than normal. I have a perfectly normal life. In a normal ranch house on a normal road, with a normal job in a normal diner. A couple days ago I would’ve said I was content. Not happy maybe, but close enough.
After twenty-four hours with Rebel, Mad Dog and Riptide, the thought of sliding back into my normal life feels like putting on clothes one size too small.
It’s not hard to find my place. An endless road out of town with a number instead of a name. Every so often a house stands alone on a patch of dry earth. The lots are actually pretty big. We have five acres, but it’s five acres of dust, weeds and a few scraggly trees. I point when we’re getting close. Mom had our driveway paved when I was in high school. A serious upgrade.
My car is still in the carport, but Dad’s bike is nowhere to be seen. A small knot of worry untangles itself in my chest. That he might be at the house didn’t occur to me until after we were already on the road. He stops by sometimes. More so since Mom passed. Riptide pulls in first, and then Mad Dog with me on the back, and Rebel bringing up the rear.
After I slip off the back of the bike, Mad Dog swings his long leg over it and gets behind me, putting a reassuring hand at the small of my back. “You live alone out here?”
Rebel looks equally surprised. “Pretty fucking remote for a single woman.”
“I guess?” I look around, trying to see it through their eyes. “It’s not like I’m one of the off-gridders. I’ve got water, electric, and everything.”
I empty the mailbox and lead them up the rock lined path to the front door. The house is so quiet compared to the Screaming Eagles compound. I can see why they might think it’s the middle of nowhere. Once inside, I toss the mail on the counter that divides the living room from the kitchen. “Make yourselves at home. I’m going to go throw together a—”
I pause.
“Something wrong?” Mad Dog asks.
It takes me a moment to realize what’s off. I can hear the creak of the neighbor’s rusty old windmill. Outside that wouldn’t be unusual, but inside the windows should muffle the noise. I know for a fact I didn’t leave a window open.
There’s no way they know what I’m thinking, but the three of them are instantly alert. Rebel points at Mad Dog and then toward the hall that leads to the bedrooms and bathroom. He points to Riptide, and then to the front door, making a sort of ‘go around’ motion. Then he pushes me into the kitchen and points to the ground. Maybe a couple days ago I would’ve pushed back against being ordered around, but I’m stubborn, not dumb. I crouch down behind the counter.
There’s a crash in the bedroom, and a male grunt that I’m pretty sure is from Mad Dog. Who’s in my house? I wince at the sound of breaking glass and a sharp thud that doesn’t spell good things for the state of my walls. I peek around the corner in time to see a man come flying from the hall. He crashes down in the living room, and Rebel’s on him in a second, flipping him to his stomach and shoving a knee to the back of the guy’s neck before pulling one of his arms painfully around to his back.