Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 81285 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81285 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“Okay, good. Hope you have a good one, and thanks again!”
“You too, Presley.”
Without saying anything more, I turned and started down the walk. I hadn’t gotten far when she muttered, “He’s not who you think he is.”
I stopped and turned around just in time to see her close the door, leaving me wondering if she’d really said anything or if my mind was just playing tricks on me. I shook it off and continued out to the truck. My eyes were still trained on the house when Rusty asked, “You good?”
I didn’t answer. I just gave him a simple nod. He gave me a moment, then asked, “Ready to head back?”
Again, I just nodded.
Without further questioning, he eased off the curb and drove out of the subdivision. After some time had passed, Rusty turned to me and asked, “So, am I mistaken, or was that Davis’s girlfriend?”
“Was is the operative word.”
“Oh?”
“It’s done.” I shot him a quick glance. “She ended things.”
That earned me a look. “You happy about that?”
“Now, why would I be happy about that?”
“She seemed pretty friendly with you tonight, and you with her.”
“I was just making sure she was okay.”
“I see. I guess I got it wrong.”
“I guess you did.”
Rusty nodded once, like that was all the answer he needed, and the conversation was done. He turned his attention back to the road and said nothing more. As soon as we pulled up to the clubhouse, we both got out, and Rusty started toward the back door.
“You coming?”
“Nah. I think I’m gonna call it.”
“Suit yourself.”
He opened the door, and the sound of music and laughter spilled out. I walked over to my bike, swung my leg over the seat, and once I slipped on my helmet, I fired up the engine and was on my way.
The cold air whipping around me did little to drown out my thoughts, but once I was home, I downed a half pint of tequila and slept like a baby. The next morning, I woke up early. Too early. It was that time of the morning when your mind starts to wander to places it has no business wandering.
Mine went straight to you know who.
I know. I had to let it go, but just thinking about her standing outside, looking up at the snow falling, got me right in the gut. I couldn’t deny it. There was something about this chick that I’d never been able to shake.
Yeah, there was no point in pretending.
It was a problem, and I didn’t have time for problems, especially ones like her. With that in mind, I got up, took a quick shower, and after I threw on some clothes, I headed out.
When I pulled up to the casino, I glanced down at my dash and groaned when I saw the time. Not only was it too damn early, but I wasn’t even on the schedule to work.
But that didn’t stop me from rolling into the place like it was top of the hour. I’d barely made it through the front door when Nikolai called out, “Goose!”
I glanced to my left and found him sitting at the bar with his jacket slung over his shoulder, and his hair was a disheveled mess. He looked way too relaxed for a man who clearly hadn’t slept. I walked over, and as I sat down next to him, I motioned to his glass of bourbon. “You realize it’s not even seven yet?”
He grinned as he lifted his glass and announced, “This is my last one. I swear.”
I didn’t believe him for a second.
He might’ve looked tired, but there was a spark in his eye—a spark I knew all too well. Nikolai was the youngest of the three Volkov brothers and by far the coolest. And if you’re into that kind of thing, he was alright looking.
He had more tats than most of the brothers, and they weren’t the sloppy, just for-the-sake-of-ink kind of tats. His were upscale with intricate details, and each one had lines of intention. They weren’t just to look cool. They meant something.
Nikolai was one of those guys who was into art and shit, but not in a weird-girly way. It was actually kind of cool. He picked up on things that most of us would never notice, and that was one of the things I liked most about him. He just got things, except for women.
Like me, he was struggling there, and lately, it seemed to be getting to him more than usual. “Late night or early morning?”
“Both.” He took a slow sip of his drink before adding, “And I gotta tell ya, I’m about to throw in the towel.”
“This have something to do with a woman?”
“Not just a woman. All women.” He shook his head and grumbled, “They’re just so damn complicated.”
“That they are.”
“You ever notice how the complication is rarely the woman herself, but everything around her.” He lifted his glass and finished off the last of his drink. “Family. Work. Exes. Cats.”