Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“You brought her here!” he roars in frustration. “And as far as I know, she’s not fucked anyone. If she has, it would’ve been you.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “I’d never put my hands on anyone under eighteen,” I sneer.
“That may be the case, Kid, but you were pretty infatuated with that girl before you left. The shit you pulled last night; bringing Snapper back here to fuck, could very easily end up being the worst mistake you’ve ever made in your life.”
“Impossible,” I mutter more to myself. “I’d never get wrapped in one piece of pussy. So there’s no chance I’d be hard up for a girl I didn’t even touch.”
“Believe me, brother,” he says tossing a cell phone in my direction. I catch it deftly. “You were.”
“Another thing,” he says before leaving the room. “Emmalyn… Kincaid’s girl… you guys were thick as thieves. You took care of her, guarded her more times than I can count. He trusted her with you, and you blew that shit out of the water last night as well.”
I sigh as he closes the door with a heavy thud. I need some distance from this place. I lose a couple of months’ worth of memories and in a matter of twelve hours I’ve practically ruined whatever the hell kind of life I’d built in that time period.
I grab my bike keys and head down the hall. A flash of auburn hair grabs my attention as it disappears into what I presume is her room. The door closes, and I hear the lock click into place before I can reach it. I want to talk to her. I feel as if I do, I may remember more of the missing chunk of my life, but she clearly doesn’t want to be bothered.
I make my way out to the main room which is thankfully empty. I’m halted by Shadow on the front porch. He’s on the phone but holds up a finger telling me to give him a few minutes. I’d like to flip him the bird, straddle my bike, and head out, but he’s the VP and that shit won’t be tolerated.
I walk down the steps to give him a little bit of privacy. I kick my boots at the dirt for several minutes before he joins me.
“Where you headed?” He asks noticing the keys in my hand.
“For a ride. No specific location in mind.”
“You just going to ignore the doctor’s orders?”
“I’m fine, Shadow.”
“Doc said no riding, no driving when taking those pills. You take one this morning?”
“What the fuck else can I do, dad? I sure as hell don’t want to be stuck in the clubhouse all damn day.” I narrow my eyes at him.
“Kincaid and I are heading back to Vegas to finish up this job. We don’t need to worry about you possibly being roadkill because you’re out on your bike hopped up on fucking painkillers either.” I can tell he’s still pissed about last night, but I know he also cares.
“Fuck,” I say pocketing my keys and walking off toward the garage.
“Come find me in an hour or so,” he yells at my back. “Kincaid wants to talk to you before we head out.”
I raise my hand over my head in acknowledgment just before I step into the empty garage. Motorcycles in various states of repair, and several SUV’s we use on occasion line one of the walls. I sit down at the table in the corner, resisting the urge to reach into the fridge for a beer I know is always stocked. That was another way the doctor has ruined my damn life. No mixing alcohol with the pain meds. I think from now on I’ll take Tylenol or some shit so I can drink and ride, not at the same time of course, but being stuck is pretty shitty.
I pull out my cell phone and search for Khloe’s name. Shadow isn’t one to joke about such serious shit, so I know what he said about her has to have some truth to it, even though it feels alien to me. I don’t see her name, but I continue to scroll through my contacts, finding one labeled ‘Sweet Girl.”
I open the messages and scroll to the very top. I spend the next forty-five minutes reading through what I’m assuming is my interaction with Khloe. She’s funny and sweet, and oddly I can tell through the numerous messages that we’ve sent back and forth, that I cared for her.
I’m pissed at no one in particular. That’s a lie. I want to go to Vegas and gut the men who were involved in my injury. I still don’t know all the details. Shadow and Kincaid aren’t one-hundred percent clear either. All they really know is that someone who works at the shitty hotel we were staying at called an ambulance when she found me unconscious on the floor. They haven’t made contact with this Bryan guy yet, so they can only go by what the people at the hospital told them.