Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
The question makes me feel a little sick. “I wish I could say no, but it can be hard to prove. It’s not like I can just steal people’s animals because I get a bad feeling.” Junkyard nuzzles my hand, licking at the scent of the treats.
"That’s fucked up," Beast snarls, giving me a little glimpse of what he hides underneath the manners.
I like it. It feels real. "It is. Trust me, working here makes me wish I could punch people sometimes." I grin up at him and the smile I get in return sends a little lick of heat through my chest.
He pats his belt. "I’d do fucking better than that."
I suck in a little breath at the reminder that they’re probably all armed. For a moment I’m fifteen again. Surrounded by men who used fear to convince me I needed what they had to offer. Scared to stay. Scared to go home and be reminded I didn’t really have one anymore.
“You okay?” Zero asks. His blue eyes seem to see more than I’m comfortable with.
“Yeah, fine.” I take a deep breath and nod. "Alright, I need to finish getting her cleaned up and into the system so she can move into her new digs. Thanks for bringing her in. No matter what happens, you did a nice thing today."
"Wouldn't be right to just leave her there," Piston states as an indisputable fact.
"I agree, but a lot of people do. They assume someone else will take care of it."
“If you wait for someone else to do shit, then nothing gets done,” Beast says.
Yeah, these guys are definitely trouble. Best to end this before I get too attached. "Alright, Junkyard." I lean closer to her and play whisper. “Princess. Say goodbye to the nice men."
She almost seems to understand that she’s about to be abandoned, or maybe she just feels Piston trying to let go. She whines, pawing at him like she wants him to pick her back up and tuck her into his jacket again.
Piston doesn’t seem any happier about leaving her behind. "Hey, I'm feeling kinda responsible for her. Would it be alright if I stick around to make sure she settles in okay?”
“We’re not really supposed to have anyone here but us and the volunteers…”
“And you’re good at following the rules?”
Oh, the challenge in those twinkling eyes is hard to resist.
If he wasn’t so obviously obsessed with Junkyard, I’d probably say no, but I wouldn’t mind the company and it really might help her adjust better. Besides, that does sort of technically make him a volunteer. Some rules are easier to bend than others. “Fine, you can help, but when I say you have to go, don’t argue with me.”
He swipes his fingers over his heart in a cross motion.
I show Beast and Zero out to the front again while Piston stays with Junkyard. It's not until the door shuts behind them, and I've locked up that it sinks in that we’re here alone. I let out a long held breath and watch as Beast and Zero’s motorcycles fire up and roar away. One bike remains, shadowy in the darkness.
It’s fine. Men like this flirt like they breathe. I’m allowed to just enjoy the company. It doesn’t have to mean anything. Right?
Junkyard’s happy little bark from the other room feels like a yes.
3
SANDRA
“So, not that I’m admitting that should actually be her name, but why Junkyard?” I ask as she looks up with literal sad puppy-dog eyes like we’re betraying her on the deepest level possible. “Oh, come on. Don’t look at me like that. Your paw is safe in the baggie and I know you’re beautiful, but you smell like you’ve been sleeping in a dumpster.”
Piston covers her ears with a laugh. “Don’t listen to the mean lady, Junk.”
She really shouldn’t listen to me. I’m lying. Well, kinda. She definitely needs a bath, but what I’m really smelling is Piston’s clean mix of body wash and leather. We’re working together to get her into the washing station and he’s far more distracting up close. I should’ve known I was in trouble even before he took his jacket off for bath time, but it’s been a while since I’ve felt this kind of instant something. That little sizzle of interest that can’t be reasoned into being, or away if it’s there.
Some of it’s the fact that he’s an attractive man if you’re into the tall, tatted and slightly dangerous look. Which I stupidly am. But he’s also annoyingly nice, and kinda funny. Plus he clearly loves dogs, soooo… ugh. I’m doomed.
He looks a little hesitant to tell me. “I don’t know. It’s not the fanciest name, but it felt right when I saw her crawling around under the cars. I grew up in a scrap yard. It was the family business, I guess. One person’s trash is another’s treasure.”