Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
When she let me pet her head, it seemed like I was acceptable to her. She even went over to her bed, grabbed a Golden Retriever stuffed animal, and brought it over to show me.
“She likes you.”
“What is she?” I asked, playing gentle tug with the stuffed animal before she pulled it away, then brought it with her to her bed, letting out a loud huff after curling up on it.
“An English Setter. They’re usually very… outgoing and friendly. Everyone is supposed to be their best friend. She, uh, she didn’t get that DNA, though.”
Suddenly tense, Siana moved around the kitchen, putting water in a teapot, seeming to need something to do.
“How… ah… how did…”
“Gonna level with you,” I said, knowing what she wanted to ask. “I didn’t exactly find your address legally,” I told her. “And I never would have done shit like that if I didn’t think you were in some sort of trouble. I didn’t know if you lived alone, if you personally were getting shot up. Probably should have turned around and left when I realized you were in an apartment, and the gunshots were likely meant for someone else. But I couldn’t go home until I knew you were alright.”
“Oh,” she said, gaze skittering away. “That was… nice. You know… the checking. Not the… illegal stuff.”
“I’d never share your address with anyone,” I assured her. “Seems like you value your privacy.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “Subscribers can be…”
“Creepy as fuck?” I filled in.
“I was going to say ‘overly familiar,’ but sometimes… yeah.”
“Some women can overstep, so I can’t imagine how much worse it is when your audience is men.”
“I have a lot of… precautions in place. Clearly, not enough.”
“The only reason I got your address is because I knew your name from the meeting at the hotel.”
To that, she nodded as she reached for a colorful little box that housed a variety of teabags.
“Do you want tea?” she asked.
“No, thanks, baby,” I said, watching the way her cheeks colored at that.
I wondered how many times she blushed in our video calls when I talked to her. And if she blushed, did she also flush when she was turned on? Did her chest get all pink? I bet it did.
Fuck.
No.
I needed not to think about that.
This was not the time for my cock to be getting hard.
“Do the police have a suspect yet?” I asked. “Did your neighbor name them?”
“I don’t think Kylo was capable,” she admitted. “He was… unconscious when they wheeled him out. Kylo… had a bunch of people in and out of his apartment all the time.”
“What kind of people?” I asked, sensing something in her tone.
“I don’t know. I mean, you can’t judge people by how they look.”
“I mean… sometimes you can, though,” I said, shrugging. “If all the people in and out seemed shady, they were probably shady.”
“By that standard, Kylo looks shady,” she said, glancing over at me. “He has a lot of tattoos, and a kind of… I don’t know. He seems like someone who might easily be involved in some… shady things.”
I made a mental note to look up this Kylo guy. It wasn’t exactly a popular name, so I figured that if I put some feelers out, I could figure out what his deal was.
Seeley usually kept his finger on the pulse of all the local criminals. Even if we weren’t located in Miami like they were back in the day. It was always good for us to know who was making waves, upsetting the status quo.
“But he’s a good guy,” Siana insisted.
“Didn’t say he wasn’t,” I said. “Lotta people look at me and my brothers and think we’re shady because of our lifestyle. Doesn’t mean we’re bad guys.”
“You mean… bikers?” she asked.
“A certain kind of bikers, yeah,” I agreed.
Her brows scrunched at that, but she didn’t ask. And some part of me didn’t want to tell her.
She’d already had a rough night. She didn’t need to know she had an arms-dealing biker in her home.
“I like your place,” I said as the silence stretched long enough to start getting awkward. “Just bought my own place. I’ve got no fucking idea what to do with it.”
“I guess you should just… start with what you like,” she said as she poured boiling water into her teacup. “My mom loves all things beige. There was never any color in our lives.”
“So, you went the complete opposite way.”
“Exactly,” she said, nodding.
“My family was poor as fuck,” I admitted. “Everything was too small and packed with shit. Didn’t love that. So, by that logic, I should like all things expensive and open.”
“Was it, like, a hoarding thing?” she asked. “Sorry, is that invasive?”
“No,” I said. “No to it being invasive.” For fuck’s sake, I’d tracked her address down, and she thought asking about my past might be inappropriate? “The issue with my family was that there were eight kids. And not enough money to go around to have enough space for all of us.”