Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52650 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52650 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
He glanced at his reflection as he strolled through the bathroom into the walk-in shower. Razor had slept in the nude for as long as he could remember. Getting tangled up in the sheets was bad enough. Having your junk roughed up by sleep pants or boxers sucked.
Seeing his reflection in the mirror, Razor turned sideways and sucked his stomach in. His six-pack still stood out on his abdomen, but he’d do a few additional sit-ups at the gym. A Daddy wants to look his best. Razor grinned at his image.
He couldn’t believe he’d found her. She’d been to Inferno before, and he’d missed connecting with her. As much as he hated that she’d fallen, the tumble had brought them together. He laughed aloud as he spotted the fuzz on his ass. Who could have known he’d tell a woman about his butt to reassure her?
Thank goodness the Devil Daddies hadn’t heard that statement. He’d never hear the end of the ribbing. Lifting weights with the club had bonded Razor with the group. Never a member of an athletic team, Razor hadn’t felt the ties that many did growing up. The older kids outweighed him throughout his high school and undergrad years. Razor had joined his father religiously in their garage exercise area. Working out helped him think through complex problems and kept his head screwed on right.
He continued into the large walk-in shower and flipped on the cold water. Dipping his head underneath the frigid spray, Razor woke himself up completely. He shook the excess moisture from his hair before wiping the remaining drops off. As he used his bodywash, Razor started a list in his mind of supplies he needed to stock in the house for Honey.
“Whoa,” he said aloud. She could always decide he wasn’t right to be her Daddy. He switched to all the questions he wanted to ask her. Razor couldn’t wait to find out more about her. He already knew the most important things. She’d admitted she was Little, and she’d responded to his kisses eagerly. Honey seemed as into him as he was into her.
In twenty minutes, he walked out to his bike in the garage. If he left now, he could grab a cup of coffee in the break area of the warehouse before his appointment with Lucien. He pulled on his helmet and strapped it on carefully. Funny how meeting his Little made him more aware of safety precautions.
Merging onto the public road leading to Inferno, Razor steered the bike through the early Saturday traffic. A few people were out and about to beat the rush. Lucien’s teams worked 24/7. Razor didn’t know how the MC president coordinated everything.
He parked his bike in his usual spot next to the first warehouse and the gate to the rear entrance of Inferno. Leaving his helmet on his seat, Razor walked into the warehouse to find some caffeine.
“Razor! We need you!”
Damn, I should have grabbed my bag. Racing toward the voice, Razor answered the shout with adrenaline pumping into his system. “Where are you?”
“Row J. Stab wound.”
Razor sped past the aisles, reciting the alphabet automatically in his head. D. E. F. He didn’t waste time or energy to ask questions. He’d deal with whatever happened. Between the machinery and the outside skirmishes the motorcycle club members got into, Razor wasn’t surprised at the emergency. Still, he mentally crossed his fingers, hoping whatever he found on row J didn’t endanger anyone’s life.
H. I. J! He turned and spotted a cluster of guys circled around someone on the floor. As he got closer, he could see Vex’s face contorted with pain. He needed his supplies.
Razor scanned the group. “Hellcat! Go get my medical bag from my right saddlebag. I’m parked outside.”
Hellcat didn’t ask questions but rushed past Razor. “Back in a flash, Razor.” As he passed, Razor noticed Hellcat’s jeans held splotches of blood.
Razor slowed and dropped to his knees next to the bleeding man. “What happened, Vex?” He didn’t wait for an answer. Grabbing the bottom of Vex’s soaked T-shirt, Razor ripped it from the hem to the neckline to expose the obvious wound.
He shook his head at the biker’s abdomen. “What the fuck is this? Did you try to superglue a stab wound together and then come to work?”
“I’ve seen you do it,” Vex joked. “It didn’t seem too hard.” The biker known as a pain in the ass by the MC looked bad. All the color had vanished from his face.
“Not too hard,” Razor repeated, and shook his head in disbelief. “How much blood did you lose at home?” he demanded, probing the exterior of the cut. From Vex’s grimaces and movements alone, Razor knew it was serious.
“It wasn’t that bad. Like a surface wound. I hit a few potholes on the way in on my bike. Then, I picked up that box. That jogged everything loose.” Vex grimaced at the nearby crate with the dark stain.