Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
I turn. “What—”
The touch disappears.
But not because of anything I did.
No, there’s a tall, muscled, scarred, and pissed-off biker standing behind me with one hand tightly coiled around my customer’s wrist as he drags it away from my leg.
“Jigsaw!” I squeak but he doesn’t take his eyes off the man.
“Touch her again and you won’t be getting these fingers back.” Jigsaw slowly pulls a hunting knife out of the sheath clipped to his belt and brandishes it in front of the shocked customer. “Understood?”
“I…I…I…” he stutters.
“He won’t, he won’t,” one of the man’s friends says.
“Nah, I need to hear him say it.” Jigsaw lowers the knife but doesn’t put it away.
“Yes,” the man finally says.
“Good. Glad we straightened that out.” Jigsaw releases the man, tucks the knife into its holder, and focuses his attention on me. His intensity dials down a notch. “You all right?”
I bob my head up and down.
“Your brother got any of those chocolate chip cookies tonight?” he asks.
I blink. Did he just threaten to cut off someone’s fingers and then casually ask me for cookies? “Uh, yeah. I think so.”
“Great.” Expectation glitters in his eyes.
Oh, he wants me to get the cookies right now.
I glance at the customers again, but they’re fixated on the table, not daring to look anywhere else.
Certain they won’t be leaving a tip or a positive Yelp review, I return to the bar. Jigsaw shadows me like my own personal guard dog.
“Where the fuck’s your brother?” Jigsaw slides onto a stool and rests his elbows on the bar.
“In the back with Torch.” I duck down and search for the box of cookies Lynette left for me earlier.
Jigsaw leans over the counter. “Are they like your personal cookies or something?”
“Kinda.” I grin at him. “But I’m willing to share them since you just rescued me.”
“Rescue.” He snorts. “You weren’t drowning, little girl. You shoulda kicked him in the nuts.”
I grab a plate and set four cookies on it, then pass it to Jigsaw. “That would’ve been difficult.” I lift one leg and kick at an awkward angle, as if lashing out at someone sitting in a chair.
He chuckles and snatches one of the cookies off the plate. “Funny.” His gaze never wavers from my face. After a few seconds of scrutiny, I squirm.
“Want anything to drink?”
“Coke.”
“Okay.” I slide down a few feet and grab a can from the fridge under the bar. As I turn to get a glass, Jigsaw raps his knuckles against the bar.
“Can’s fine.”
I slide the can to him and he pops the tab.
“How come you’re riding alone tonight?” I ask. I almost never see one Lost King brother without another close by.
He shrugs. “I was out this way when your brother called.” He glances down the hallway. “How come you’re working here, now?”
“Remy finally unclenched and agreed to let me help out.” I stand straighter. “This was my grandparents’ place.”
A faint smile ghosts his lips. “I’ve heard.”
Maybe that’s a weird thing to brag about but I’m proud of what my grandparents built together. “I have another job I’m working during the day. And I’m still at my part-time job at the grocery store.” Why do I feel compelled to share so much?
“You should hang out with my sister more.” He circles his finger between us. “Maybe some of your work ethic can rub off on Jezzie.”
Remy walks up behind Jigsaw in time to hear that last part. “Did you bring your sister with you?”
Jigsaw swivels on the stool. “Don’t worry about where my sister is. Why aren’t you lookin’ after your own sister?” He jerks his thumb toward the rowdy grandpas. “Caught one of them old fucks grabbing her leg when I came in.”
“What the fuck.” Remy’s startled gaze shoots to me. “Are you all right?”
I nod quickly, not sure I like Jigsaw blaming my brother for what some dumb customer did.
The two of them move to the end of the bar for a conversation that seems kind of intense. Every now and then they both glance over at me. Great. One grabby-handed customer might convince Remy to not let me work here anymore.
While they talk, I stare at the small television in the corner. An ad for Supreme Underground Fighter flashes on the screen.
Nope.
I grab the remote and turn the channel.
I can’t wait to leave for college.
Until then, I’ll immerse myself in work. Keep my mind so busy, I don’t have a spare minute to think about Griff.
That has to be the remedy for healing my broken heart.
But deep down, I know it isn’t.
CHAPTER NINE
Griff
Every week I’m shocked I’m still on the show. Half the time when we have our supposed “face-offs” it’s never clear who’s the winner.
Hammer Fists is eventually sent packing, so I guess I won that fight.
“You’ve gotta distinguish yourself from Naptime,” Venom says to me after a particularly harsh training session.