Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 133511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
Hell.
“Pulled that off Instagram,” Gage said. “She likes posting pictures of herself. You still want to pass?”
I studied the photo again. She was hot, definitely. But the red wasn’t doing it for me, not really. I preferred brunettes. Chocolate brown hair was the best, not to mention smooth skin tanned darker than this girl would ever get outside of a spray booth.
“Still pass,” I said. “Unless you’re not up for it? I know you’re older than me, so if you need some of those little blue pills . . .”
“You’re an asshole,” he said, laughing as he pulled the truck over into one of the parking spots lining the old downtown. “Okay, here we go. Try not to fuck up too badly.”
“Fuck up what? Existing? I thought we were just here to check it out.”
“Just act normal.”
I snorted, opening my door. We’d see if I could pull it off or not.
• • •
It didn’t take us long to unload the bikes, and then we were headed down the old highway toward town, which had been bypassed by the freeway years ago. Felt weird to be riding around without my Reaper colors. Unnatural. The small downtown held two diners, clearly in competition with each other. At one end was Clare’s, which seemed to have a coffee shop/hipster kind of vibe. On the other was the Hungry Chicken, which was all greasy spoon. We parked on the street between them.
“There,” Gage said, nodding his head toward the chicken place. “We’ll get better gossip there.”
“And more food, too,” I said, noting the sidewalk board advertising their big breakfast platter, served all day. Nice.
We gave the bikes one more check before starting down the street, and I wondered if Gage was as unsettled by the current state of his ride as I was. I’d stripped off the whips and anything that could identify me as a Reaper. Felt kinda like standing outside naked without them . . . I got why we needed to go undercover, but it felt wrong. I was used to wearing my colors proud, and fuck anyone who had a problem with that.
The restaurant door gave a welcoming chime as I pushed it open. It was only midafternoon, so there weren’t a ton of people inside. Just a couple old guys sitting at the counter nursing their coffee and a table full of girls giggling and drinking milk shakes.
“You boys hungry?” a middle-aged woman asked, stepping around the counter to walk toward us. I forced myself not to react, but I swear to fuck she looked like a cartoon parody of a greasy spoon waitress. Big blonde hair, all up in some kind of beehive. Bright red lips and eye shadow so blue it could’ve been neon. Pair that with the pink uniform she wore and she was literally the least attractive human female I’d ever met in my life. I mean, not just unsexy, but actively creepy. I sort of wanted to take a picture of her, just to prove to myself later she was real.
“We’ve got our breakfast special,” she said. “It’s the breakfast platter. Three eggs, your choice of meat, hash browns, toast, and a bottomless cup of coffee. Best food in town.”
“Sounds great,” Gage said without blinking. She smiled at him, the expression transforming her face until it seemed less cartoonish.
“Seat yourselves,” she said. “Not like we have a shortage of space.”
I nodded toward a table near the window that’d give us a good view of the street while keeping us off to the side of the diner. Gage put his back to the wall, leaving me exposed—which I fucking hated—but he’d been the club’s sergeant at arms for nearly a decade. Not a guy you want to piss off, if you catch my meaning.
I settled myself, looking out across the street. The buildings here were old—lots of character. The one directly opposite us was built from some kind of sandstone, and above the windows it read “Reimers Pharmacy” with the Rx symbol. The Reimers seemed to be long gone, though, because below was the girliest shopfront I’d ever seen. There was china, antiquey shit, and even some old-fashioned toys in the window front, along with some fancy little tables on legs that didn’t seem quite strong enough to hold a man’s weight. Kind of like an old-fashioned ice cream parlor.
Across the window, a sign read, “Tinker’s Teahouse, Antiques & Fine Chocolates.”
I nodded toward it.
“You see that?” I asked Gage. He glanced over at the store.
“Huh. That’s different.”
“You boys want the special?” our waitress asked, and I’m man enough to admit she scared the hell out of me. Not only was she suddenly damned close, she’d snuck up on us without making a sound. I stared at the neon eyeshadow, mesmerized.
Shit. Maybe she wasn’t human.
“We’ll have two specials,” Gage said, offering her one of those smiles that made women’s panties drop. “Could use that coffee now, too. Been a long day.”