Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 144908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
“Seriously, Master. Do you sing in front of an audience?”
He sighed. “You’re such a persistent little thing. I have. Don’t like it though. I play music. I write songs. Mostly, if I sing, I do it for the old ladies at this little church, but if you ever tell anyone I’m going to strangle you.”
She laughed softly and rubbed her face along his arm like a little cat. “You mean tell anyone you do good deeds? I’d never destroy your image as a badass, Master.”
“I don’t do good deeds, princess.”
“Of course not. Tell me about this church where you sing.”
“Why do you say ‘church’ in that tone of voice?” he challenged.
It was everything she could do not to laugh, and that made her want to kiss him. They’d come to the Torpedo Ink roadhouse to meet the sheriff to answer questions about her parents’ murders. The band was there rehearsing, and the singer, Seychelle, and her man, Savage, were up on the stage together, but only a couple of others were in the bar. Ambrielle thought she would spend the entire time crying, but somehow, Master made her feel centered and strong. The singer’s voice added to the calm, cutting through her grief, allowing her to feel as if she could handle whatever came up in the questions as long as she didn’t have to look too closely at what had happened.
“I wasn’t aware I had a tone,” she lied. She had a tone. Total amusement. “Unless you mean I thought the building might tremble and fall when you walked in because of your complete badassness.”
“Woman, you are going to get yourself into all kinds of trouble.”
The threat was empty, and they both knew it. For the first time, his smile wasn’t a half one. It was real and actually lit his eyes for all of a split second or less, but it took her breath and she wanted to be able to do that over and over.
“Tell me about the church where you sing, please.” She fluttered her lashes at him, changing tactics.
Master pulled her closer. “There’s a group of old ladies from Sea Haven and Caspar who have this little church they go to. They like to have music, and there just aren’t very many people who attend. Zyah, Player’s old lady, told us they were upset because most of the time they can’t get anyone to play the keyboard or sing. It’s only for one fucking hour a week. So our band goes to their one-room church and plays. Not all together—we take turns singing for the most part, so each person only goes once a month.”
“Master, I love that you do that. I really do. My parents were nondenominational, but they went to church often. They said it brought them closer. I’d love to go with you the next time it’s your turn.” She was going whether he wanted her to or not. She had turned into the needy, clingy type overnight. She’d always been independent, but losing her entire family had thrown her completely. She didn’t want Master out of her sight.
He stroked his throat. “I’ve had this throat thing going on for a little while. Was going to see the doc about it. Kept putting it off, but it’s really bothering me. It’s my turn this coming Sunday. My voice is already naturally rough. I don’t think it would sound all that great with the added rasp, nor do I believe my throat’s up to handling an hour of singing. Was going to ask one of the others to handle it for me. Maybe I can do it though. We’ll see.”
“What throat thing?” Anxiety gripped her. “You didn’t tell me about a throat thing.”
Master immediately wrapped his arm around her and touched his forehead to hers, creating instant intimacy. “Breathe, princess. It’s nothing. Just been sore for a little while. I’ll talk to the doc today. He’ll be stopping by the clubhouse to check up on you. We’ll be heading there after we talk to the sheriff.”
“Me? Why would a doctor want to talk to me?”
“Babe. Really?” He touched the bruises on her face. “And you’ve got a few more on your hip. I just want him to check you out, that’s all. Some of the others will be there to meet you as well. After, we’ll head over to Crow 287, Alena’s restaurant, to meet up with your friends.”
“Ambrielle Moore?”
Master didn’t so much as blink. Ambrie realized he had known the sheriff had come up behind them. She turned, Master with her, the protection of his body close and, in that moment, needed. Not only did she feel she needed her new husband, but she felt she needed Seychelle’s singing as well. Savage had gone silent, but his woman continued, her voice like an angel’s pouring a melody of strength and resilience into the air around Ambrielle like a blanket surrounding her. She needed it. The moment she heard the sheriff’s voice, her stomach began to churn, and the images of her parents’ deaths crowded into her mind.