Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 169013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 845(@200wpm)___ 676(@250wpm)___ 563(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 845(@200wpm)___ 676(@250wpm)___ 563(@300wpm)
Care coming on severe every time I glanced their way, that foreign sense that they felt the same way when they looked at me.
Like I mattered, and it kept filling up places that I hadn’t realized had been empty.
I probably would have completely submitted to the comfort of this place—convinced myself nothing was amiss and I was here by choice and not because I’d been forced to be—if it wasn’t for the fact I still hadn’t heard from Dereck.
The only reason I knew he was still alive was because I asked Silas and he told me. It pissed me off that those bubbles were no longer popping up to at least give me an indication that he was still breathing every time I stared at my latest unanswered text.
He was such a jerk.
So thoughtless.
And the longer I was there, the more my anger grew toward my little brother.
It wasn’t right, the way he used me. I wanted to take care of him. Support him. But how the hell was I supposed to do that when he never met me in the middle? I mean, had I even crossed his mind since he’d dropped me here?
I was still watching and waiting for answers, listening in close to conversations and trying to pick up on any intonation or trace.
Hoping one of the bikers at the shop would slip and reveal something they weren’t supposed to.
It turned out, the Crimson Crows were freaking tight-lipped. No sinking ships around here.
So, now I sat at the desk behind the counter in the office, inputting a stack of accounts receivable invoices and trying to make them match up against the payments Torque & Talon had received.
It was kind of a mess.
The move seemed to be the culprit of the disaster, like they’d just picked up and shoved everything into boxes without care or thought.
It didn’t exactly sit right since over the week that I’d been working here, I had come to realize that these bikers actually took the business seriously.
Without fail, they showed up at eight each morning and worked in the shop for hours.
Was it dumb that I’d taken some sort of pride in sorting out their financials? Wanting to help Silas? To fix something for him when I could feel the weight of burden pressing down on his shoulders?
Probably, but at least it kept me busy.
Kept me from succumbing to the frenzy that buzzed at the back of my spirit and mind. A distraction from the dread and worry that sat like a barbed-wire ball at the backside of my heart.
It didn’t matter that I could hear hoots and laughter and distorted voices seeping through the brick walls of the office.
I could still feel the tension that tugged and curdled the air. Every Crow carved in a razor-sharp edge.
Like something was coming.
A dull threat on the horizon.
Each of them ready for all hell to break loose.
Or maybe because of the lifestyle they lived, that was just the way they always were, and it had nothing to do with my situation.
But there was something about the way Silas hovered over me that told me that wasn’t quite right.
Metal and power tools echoed through the walls, a muddle of warped voices and indistinct conversations that carried as I studied an invoice then inputted the numbers into the correct column.
A shiver rocked over me when the door between the shop and office swept open behind me, the same way it did every time Silas came into the room.
I wanted it to be a reaction to the fear I should feel.
Nope.
In its place was shimmery anticipation.
A buzz of energy that slashed and struck, lifting the fine hairs at the nape of my neck.
Silas’s footsteps were long yet slowed, his boots thudding on the dingy floor, and my stomach twisted as I felt the overwhelming weight of his presence ease up to me from behind.
His breath fluttered a piece of my hair over my cheek as he reached around and set a plate covered in foil on the desk.
“Eat.”
Coarse, raspy care.
Bossy to the extreme.
King.
“I couldn’t eat another bite.”
Meems had already stuffed me before I came into work this morning.
Eggs and bacon and toast dripping with butter and homemade jam.
His chuckle was scraping and low, and God, my stupid belly did a thousand flips. “Pretty sure you’re going to want a taste of what’s under there.”
“You think you know me so well.”
It was a quiet taunt.
Begging him for the attention.
“I think I’m figuring it out.” His fingertips lightly trailed up the opposite side of my jaw, scattering goosebumps as they went.
One of those safe touches that I pretended didn’t mean anything.
The profile of his face just came into view in my periphery on the other side.
So close.
Smelling like an old-fashioned at ten-thirty in the morning.
Dang it, was that scent addictive.
“Why are you bothering?” I wanted it to come out as snark, but it reeked of desperation.