Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 122896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 614(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 614(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
Finn pointed the top of his beer bottle at her. “Do men like that short hair of yours?”
Her dark hair was kept pretty damn short, but then keeping it that short helped prevent the max security inmates from grabbing a handful and wrenching her around by her hair.
“Do men like that short hair of yours?” she echoed.
Finn grinned and flapped his eyelashes. “I do get my fair amount of the male gaze.”
Monty almost choked on her crap beer. She pounded her chest and coughed. When she could talk again, she said, “I heard gingers are spicy.”
“I’m super spicy. Do you want a taste?”
“Eww. No. You’re an asshole. I don’t like spicy asshole.”
“To know that means you’ve tasted one.”
“I do get my fair share of the male gaze,” she echoed him.
“Do they tend to wear orange jumpsuits and identify as an inmate?”
She grabbed the pillow tucked in the corner of the couch and whipped it at him.
He laughed and ducked. Snagging it from where it landed on the couch next to him, he tucked it behind his head. “Thanks. I’ve wanted that pillow for the past fifteen minutes but was too lazy to get up and grab it.”
Monty shook her head.
“Can you two shut the fuck up? I’m trying to watch the game,” Nox bitched from the couch on the right side of the large U.
“That’s right, we’re crashing in Nox’s living room right now since he’s made himself at home here,” Decker said as he joined them, dropping on the couch next to Nox and throwing a beefy arm over the man’s shoulder.
With a scowl, Nox shrugged it off. “If you need to cuddle, go do it with Monty.”
Decker glanced across the TV area and asked, “Monty?”
“Don’t even try it,” she warned.
Nox finally sold the home where he and his late wife had lived. Since that house held too many memories for him, a deal had been struck that after the closing, he’d take the equity and use it to finish the second floor of The Plant as an apartment. This way he could live upstairs at the clubhouse, something he’d already been doing anyhow. However, he was still in the middle of working on his new digs.
The floors were now refinished, the plumbing and bathroom fixtures installed, the walls and trim painted, and the primary bedroom framed out. Eventually Nox would build a second bedroom, but that would be the last thing on his long to-do list. A kitchen was his next priority.
He was still sleeping on a damn cot up there. But at least he moved it from the third floor—since that was now home to the Tri-State Federal Drug Task Force—to the second floor, where he had more privacy.
Since the apartment wasn’t completely habitable yet, he was using the first floor of the Blue Avengers’ church as his living room and kitchen until appliances were installed and his place was furnished, since he ended up donating all the furniture he’d owned with his late wife.
“What’s going on, fuckers?” Antonio Alvarez called out, appearing from the back hallway.
“You’re missing the game,” Finn informed their club’s sergeant at arms.
Rez shook his dark head. “I was listening to it on the radio on my ride over. I’m not sure I want to watch this slaughter.” Keeping his eyes glued to the game on the huge TV, he stepped behind the curved counter in the back corner of the common area and grabbed a cold beer from the fridge. “Fucking dirty birds!”
A grumble went up from all of them at the nickname they called the opposing team.
“What do you expect? They’re always tough to beat,” Axel Jamison said, also coming from the rear of the building since they only used the rear or side door to come and go from The Plant, their club’s church.
“Did you just get off shift?” Monty asked the BAMC president.
“Yes, unfortunately. I came straight over.”
“Where’s Bella?” Monty asked about his wife. “With the kids?”
“No. She’s doing something with the Dirty Angels sisterhood. I think they’re all planning some fundraiser for Ellie Walker’s foundation.”
The Walker Foundation was a worthy one. It had been created to provide prosthetic care for amputees who couldn’t afford it, since her husband was a vet who’d lost his lower leg while serving.
“Who’s got the twins?” Rez asked.
“My parents. My dad’s dropping them off here soon,” Axel said, joining them over by the TV.
With beer in hand, Rez shouted, “What the fuck!” at the TV when he came over to stand at the end of the couch where Finn had his ass planted.
Finn flung a hand toward the big screen and bitched, “Right? They’re playing like shit. They might as well just forfeit this fucking game and go home.”
“Don’t count them out yet,” Nox grumbled.
“There is no way they’re pulling off a W with this shit show,” Finn told him.