Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 47714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 239(@200wpm)___ 191(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 239(@200wpm)___ 191(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Kane had promised to send one of the old ladies to gather some of Alanna’s things. Until then, she’d have to make do with my shit.
“She’ll have her stuff sometime tomorrow,” he’d said. “You just get her there safely.”
I didn’t bother answering him; just nodded and kept moving.
When the last of the supplies were loaded into the truck, Alanna met me at the front door where Gauge was leaning against the wall, a smirk carved into his face.
“You sure you don’t want company?” he asked.
I closed the tailgate on the truck with a solid thunk. “You offering to be a chaperone or a witness?”
He snorted. “Neither. Just saying—Kane’s sending the one guy who doesn’t talk much to keep a woman company for who the hell knows how long. Could be entertaining.”
“Won’t be,” I said flatly, slinging my duffel into the back seat of the crew cab.
Edge passed by on his way to the garage, his knife dancing between his fingers. “You say that now.”
I shot him a look. He just grinned.
“Keep your head on the swivel,” he added. “If that kid shows up, you call it in before you make him disappear.”
“Sure,” I muttered, which earned me a bark of laughter.
They knew me well enough to get what “sure” meant.
When I turned back toward the door, Alanna stood there, her shoulders straight, and her chin high. There was a defiance in her eyes that hadn’t been there last night. Fear might have brought her here, but stubbornness was keeping her steady. And truthfully, it was as sexy as fuck.
“Ready?” I asked.
She hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah.”
We didn’t talk as we walked toward the line of bikes.
Tyre climbed into the truck and pulled out, headed to the designated spot where we’d make the switch.
I climbed onto my motorcycle and waited while Alanna adjusted the borrowed helmet. Then she slid onto the seat behind me, and warmth hit like a jolt through my bloodstream. I reached back to grip her calf, pulling her leg up so it was resting in the right spot and cradling my hips between her knees. “Hold tight.”
Her hands wrapped around my waist, fingers digging into the leather of my jacket. When the engine roared to life, the low growl echoed across the lot. The vibrations ran up through the frame and into my spine, grounding me in a way nothing else could.
We rolled out slowly, the clubhouse fading in the mirrors until it was just dust and distance.
Despite the wind whipping past us, the silence between us stayed heavy. Charged. Every few miles, I glanced in the mirror. Her hair streamed behind her like gold silk, her eyes hidden under the visor, her lips parted as she breathed in the warm air.
Her hold tightened each time we hit a curve, her body molding to mine, and I felt it everywhere.
The highway stretched ahead—empty and sun-washed. The farther we rode, the quieter my head got.
By the time the ocean breeze reached us, I’d almost forgotten we were running from something.
Almost.
We took an unconventional route toward Wild Oak Island, which turned out to be more of a peninsula. After driving for an hour and losing any possible tails, we pulled into an overlook where the truck and Tyre were waiting.
He held his hand out for the keys to my Harley, and I reached over, giving him a deadly glare. “One scratch, and you’ll be sucking your food through a straw.”
Tyre rolled his eyes. “I’d have to be alive to eat through a straw.”
“True,” I agreed casually, dropping the keys into his waiting palm.
He’d left the truck running, so I helped Alanna into her seat, trying my best to ignore the delectable curve of her ass as I boosted her up.
Then I rounded the back of the truck, pausing for a minute to…deflate…before getting into the driver’s seat and pulling back out onto the deserted highway.
The road narrowed the farther we went, carving through a stretch of palmettos and scrub pine that leaned toward the coast like they were bracing against the wind. Gravel crunched under the truck tires as we turned onto a less populated road.
By the time the brush thinned and the dunes rose into view, the scent of salt and seaweed had worked its way into the cab. Though it didn’t cover the smell of vanilla wafting to my nose. A small cottage came into sight—whitewashed siding weathered to a soft gray, wraparound porch half hidden behind wild sea grass. The windows caught the fading light and threw it back in fractured glints of gold.
“Beach house,” I explained as I turned onto the narrow drive. “Closest neighbor’s about a mile away. Cameras cover the approach, and there’s a sensor grid in the dunes. No one gets near without us knowing.”
Alanna’s gaze stayed on the house as we pulled up. “It’s beautiful.”