Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 132892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
“Squirrels ate your wiring,” I said bluntly. “I can probably get it running again, but it needs to be replaced.”
“It’s August already,” she replied, sighing heavily. A better man would’ve made sympathetic noises, but I didn’t give a shit about her AC. I was too busy imagining her tongue licking my cock, because what can I say? I’ve always been a simple man with simple needs. “You think you can keep it running for another couple weeks? That’ll give me enough time to figure out what to do.”
Christ I wanted to fuck her. Seriously, it was like the bitch had been made for me, all perfect and put together but just a little dirty.
Sweaty.
Small enough I could control her every move if I wanted to, but lush and soft and—
Opt out, asshole. You don’t want a complication like this. Tell her you changed your mind about the job.
“I’ll need to get some parts in Omak,” I said instead. “I already called to check. Trip should take an hour and a half, maybe a little longer, which means I’ll still have plenty of daylight to finish the repair. Assuming I’ve got the job, that is.”
She looked up me, green eyes wide with relief, although she was trying not to show it. I had the job, and we both knew it. Too easy.
“Cooper Romero . . . How long have you been in town?”
“Less than a week.”
“And how long are you planning to stick around?”
“For a while,” I said, which was a damned lie. I had a mission to accomplish—then it was home to Coeur d’Alene, because fuck this little shithole of a town. “My old lady and I decided to end things. I needed to get away for a while, and wanted to be somewhere I wouldn’t run into her but close enough to still see my kids.”
Her eyes caught mine.
“Boys or girls?”
“Boys,” I said slowly, knowing I had her. “One’s ten and the other’s twelve.”
“You must miss them,” she said softly. Um, yeah. I’d totally miss them if they existed. You’re a fucking asshole, lying to her like that.
Hell, at least I was consistent.
“Every day. If you want me to get that part, I’d better leave soon.”
She glanced back down at the ancient unit and nodded her head.
“That’d be great. How much cash do you think you’ll need?”
“Shouldn’t be too much—it’s more labor than anything. I’ll bring you a receipt.”
• • •
Fixing the AC took longer than I’d expected. It was nearly seven that night before I screwed the access panel back on, packed up my tools, and started down the stairs to the shop, reeking of sweat and tar. My jeans were ruined, but I’d stripped off my shirt early on, so it was okay. It’d still been hot as fuck up there, but at least I’d been able to catch the occasional breeze on the roof. I felt tired in a good way—not so much that I wouldn’t be able to make my assigned “date” that night, but enough that I felt like I’d accomplished something. Sheer boredom had been the hardest part of the last couple days. You can only sit in a hotel room for so long before losing your fucking mind.
The stairs landed in a narrow hallway outside the main shop. There was a small bathroom in the back—shared with the storefront next door—although it looked to me like nobody had used the space in a long time. I stepped inside to clean myself up. Pointless. I’d have to pick up some Orange GOOP on the way home, otherwise I’d never get this shit off.
Of course, I had a feeling my real target was into dirty hands. Not that I knew Talia Jackson all that well, but I’d seen enough of her in action over the past week to get a feel for her. She was young, stupid, and had a crazy sense of entitlement, all because her brother—Marsh—was the president of the local motorcycle club. Talia was everything I hated in a woman, but the little bitch was my ticket into the Nighthawk Raiders.
None of this should’ve been necessary. They were nothing more than a support club, and they owed a percentage of everything they earned to the Reapers MC—a percentage that had fallen by more than half in the last three months.
Fucking traitors.
Marsh was up to something. It was my job to catch the bastard, which meant that tonight—instead of bending Tinker Garrett over her prissy little counter and banging her until she forgot her own name—I was stuck meeting Talia and her girl posse at a bar.
Christ, I might even have to dance.
The irony wasn’t lost on me—how many dancers had I hired over the years? So many I couldn’t remember. Now I’d be the one performing for a woman, only I wouldn’t be getting paid. I washed as best I could, scrubbing my face and using my shirt as a towel. Then I tucked it into my back pocket and pushed through the door into Tinker’s little kitchen. No sign of her, but I heard music playing softly in the main shop. Where the hell had she gone?