Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 46081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
She turned to stone before his eyes. Frost’s stomach sank. Oh shit. Was she there with malicious intent? Was she some spy for the club’s enemies?
Not long ago, they’d waged war on a local drug dealer. He’d been silent as fuck since the MC burned down his meth factory, but that didn’t mean they were safe from future retaliation. Could this woman have been sent by Lobo? Maybe the whole damsel in distress act had been staged.
“I, uh…” She sighed. “I have some business to discuss with your president.”
“You do?” That time he heard it. The ice he’d gotten his nickname for.
Rachel seemed oblivious to the new tension. “Yeah. It’s kinda personal.”
Fuck. She couldn’t be some chick Curly knocked up. First off, she was young enough to be his daughter, and the prez would die before cheating on his ol’ lady. Though there’d been quite a few months between when he got out of prison and met Brooke. Maybe this chick had an infant out there with Curly’s blood running through it. Or worse, maybe she was his kid.
The choices were…
Spy for Lobo.
Curly’s baby mamma.
Or his fucking daughter.
Fuck.
He needed to get her out of there before she caused more drama. “You’re right. You should get the fuck outta here.” No point in softening his tone, especially not if she was there to hurt his club. Or the club he aspired to be an official part of.
She seemed to shrink in on herself at his harsh delivery.
Nice try. He rolled his eyes. The meek and frightened act might have worked at first, but he was over it now. “I’ll let Curly know you were looking for him.”
She shook her head. “No. Please. I’ll go, but don’t tell him I was looking for him.” She stood and hopped down from the picnic table. “I need to figure out what I want to do.”
He took a menacing step toward her. “If you’re here to fuck shit up for him—”
She sucked in a breath, shaking her head so fast her hair flew around her face.
Before he could say another word, the clubhouse door opened. Loud music filtered out into the quiet night. Jinx, Tracker, Curly, and Tracker’s ol’ lady, Jo, came through the door and straight toward the picnic table.
So much for getting rid of Rachel.
“She all right?” Tracker called out.
Frost nodded.
“Not hurt at all?” The concern in Curly’s voice made Frost’s stomach cramp.
“She’s good. And she’s leaving.”
Jo rolled her eyes. “Wow, Frost, way to make a girl feel welcome.”
Rachel wasn’t welcome.
Jinx stepped closer. “We got rid of him. He won’t be a problem anymore, darlin’.”
Warmth at Frost’s side had him looking down. Rachel had practically plastered herself against him and was once again shaking like someone had zapped her with a taser.
“Thought you said she was okay,” Jinx said with a frown.
Shit. Maybe she really was scared. Lying was easy but faking a physical reaction like hers wasn’t. She was pale, clammy, and fucking vibrating.
“Back the fuck up,” he said to Jinx, who scowled.
“Sorry, prospect, what was that?” Jinx snarled out the question, using his massive height to try and intimidate Frost.
It didn’t work, of course. Size and animal noises did shit to unnerve him, but Rachel pressed even closer and grabbed onto the back of his cut. She quaked against him, nearly knocking him off his feet with the strength of her tremors.
“I said back the fuck away from her.” Frost met Jinx scowl for scowl.
“Okay, hold up.” Jo stepped between them and shoved Jinx back with a hand on his chest. “Jinx, take a breath. He’s not being disrespectful. You’re scaring the shit outta the woman.” She pointed toward Rachel.
Jinx’s face screwed up in confusion. “What?” He glanced at Rachel who practically hid behind Frost. “Oh, shit, sorry, darlin’.” He lifted his hands and stepped back. “I’m harmless as a big ol’ teddy bear.”
Right. Well, to her Jinx was harmless. But not in general.
Frost reached back and gently gripped Rachel’s wrists, prying her hands from his cut. “Sit,” he whispered as he turned. “You’re gonna fall over.” He crouched beside her. “Just breathe.”
“S-s-sorry.” With one hand pressed to her chest, she closed her eyes and tried to regain control of her breathing.
Frost felt fucking helpless. What the hell could he do to help her?
“Jesus,” Tracker said. “She’s near full panic attack.”
Frost glared at him. If her breathing didn’t return to normal in the next minute, he’d go inside and find Pulse, the brother who worked as an ER nurse at the local hospital.
Curly came forward and kneeled next to Frost, who had the strange urge to knock his president on his ass. The move wouldn’t bode well for his future with the club, so he fought it. But when Curly reached out and placed a hand on Rachel’s knee, he couldn’t keep his fists from curling.