Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Hell, Marshall would even come if I asked him to.
But they didn’t owe me that.
I couldn’t ask it of them.
The only person I did have was gone.
Until, of course, the most unexpected person entered my room.
I hadn’t seen him well in the dark, but there was no mistaking that biker cut and that rough, sexy voice of his.
He was hotter than I’d anticipated.
He was tall and the kind of fit that said he definitely spent some time in the gym, picking up and putting down heavy things.
And, yeah, a girl had to appreciate that.
There was some ink, but he was mostly covered up, so I had no idea how extensive the work was.
Then, yeah, there was the face.
He was the kind of good-looking that you had to call rugged. Wide, strong features from his sharp edge to his jaw to his kind of broody forehead that cast his blue eyes in shadow.
He had a blond beard and matching hair that was kept kind of long, but shaved up both sides, giving him the look of a Viking.
Hot.
The man was hot.
Smoking, even.
Which I shouldn’t have been able to truly appreciate while in a hospital bed, but, yeah, let’s just say there was… a response to him.
Then he went ahead and gave me what I desperately needed right then.
He didn’t come with kind eyes and words and everything the well-meaning medical staff had.
He gave it all to me straight.
Shocking the shit out of me because the man had been busy while I’d been only half-conscious and then getting treatment.
It sounded like he’d been crisscrossing Navesink Bank, trying to get information, figure out who had hurt me.
All for what?
Guilt?
Unfounded guilt, too.
I mean, I hadn’t exactly been kind to the man.
He had no reason to feel like he’d fucked up by leaving when I’d demanded he do just that.
But, hey, I guess it said something about him as a man that he did still feel like he could have or should have stopped the attack.
Sweet, if misguided.
“Wait… what?” I asked, sure I’d misunderstood him about his club. I mean… there was no way he had just invited me to come back to the clubhouse and stay there. Where the bikers would protect me.
I mean, sure, the word was that those bikers in particular were hardcore protectors of women. I guess I’d just always figured that meant their women. Their wives and daughters and cousins and all of that.
Maybe that wasn’t it, though.
Maybe they just gave a shit about all women.
Which, well, kind of went against the general belief about bikers. Weren’t they the guys who called biker groupies clubwhores?
“Just saying, since you don’t know who it is, and you don’t know if they know you and where you live, you might want to consider being somewhere safe. Least ‘till the cops figure some shit out.”
I mean, there was some logic there.
I think I’d been operating under the assumption that the attack had likely been random. But there was always the chance that it wasn’t, that this person had been looking for an opportunity to hurt me.
I didn’t go out of my way to make enemies, but I was in contact with a lot of people—a lot of men, in particular—on a daily basis.
I tried to help most of them.
And I would say the vast majority of them, even ones I hadn’t been able to help because the house was full or because they didn’t meet the requirements, were good and kind and understanding of the situation.
But, sure, there were the outliers.
Guys like Doug.
Ones who were worse.
Those who hadn’t taken ownership of their circumstances and were out to blame someone else. Especially the staff at the house if we turned them away, kicked them out, or caught them breaking rules.
Then, of course, there were, you know, more personal guys.
I didn’t date a whole hell of a lot anymore. Mostly because I didn’t have the time. But I dated here and there. Mostly casually. Always guys who ended up being complete and utter shitheads in one way or another.
Things had never just… ended pleasantly for me. There was always some argument or refusal to accept it was over.
Did I think any of those guys would viciously beat me?
I’d like to say no.
Honestly, though, I’d never been with anyone long enough to know what ugliness might be lying dormant inside.
No, no one had put their hands on me while we’d been seeing each other. Probably because they knew I wouldn’t hesitate to fuck their lives up if they tried.
Just because someone didn’t beat you while you were together, though, didn’t mean they weren’t capable of doing horrible things out of anger or resentment or jealousy.
Not that there was anything to be jealous of at present. I was in a pretty epic dry spell.
“Did I lose you?” Voss asked, making me shake those clinging thoughts away.