Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 54343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Rosa had hitchhiked and walked for eight hours to reach the farm. She found Eddie on the front porch where she guessed he’d fallen earlier that week and passed away. She could only hope his death had been quick and painless. Rosa hadn’t cried for years, but she did that day, sitting on the front steps. She hated to leave him there, but calling the police would only result in her being held and questioned as a suspect. A background check would reveal the charges against her from years ago. Eddie would have understood her need to survive. He was already gone.
Returning to town, she’d hidden each time a vehicle passed, scared they’d think she’d had something to do with Eddie’s death. Rosa had lifted a phone from a distracted mother’s stroller and called 911 and the number the close-mouthed farmer had made her memorize when he’d gotten ill.
She’d taken a chance that the son wouldn’t have moved quickly on the property when the biker had collapsed. Thank goodness she’d been right. The mailman had piled his deliveries in a bin by the front door. No one had been here in over a month. The barn had been a convenient place to let Street down easily into the hay and stash the bike out of view.
Street rubbed his flat stomach. “That helped a bunch. The brain fog is clearing.”
Rosa kept her gaze on his face. She knew exactly how fit and appealing Street’s form was. His unconscious body had rested heavily against her. Somehow, between her clenching one of his arms and his hands locked together around her waist, she’d held him on the bike to reach a safe place.
“What time do you think they’ll get here?” She grabbed her phone from her back pocket and pulled up a map. Maybe she could talk him into taking her to the next town to get that bus pass. The Ravagers would monitor her escape routes.
The rumble of motorcycles answered her question before he did. She stood and rushed to the window, positioning herself to the side where she could look out without being spotted easily. Street moved to the front door and walked outside.
“It’s safe, Rosa.”
A large man walked up the stairs first. Rosa rolled her eyes. All these guys were heavily muscled and in good shape. What happened to bikers with beer guts and bald heads in this club? Definitely, the Ravagers lost the battle for hot, fit biker dudes.
“Razor. I figured you’d come with the first group to make sure I wasn’t scrambled,” Street said.
“Are you?” Razor asked, scanning him quickly.
“I’m fine. Rosa kept me from drinking more than a sip of that crap and got me out of there.”
Razor glanced over at Rosa and nodded. “Not many people would have put themselves at risk. Did you get injured?”
That surprised her. No one had shown concern about her for years. “I’m a survivor,” she answered truthfully.
“I’m a medical doctor if you need care,” Razor told her.
Rosa glanced over at Street to confirm that information. She didn’t know why she trusted him to share the truth.
“Razor’s a real doc,” Street confirmed.
“I’m good,” she said quickly as she kept an eye on the small group of bikers who’d arrived with Razor.
“The offer stands,” Razor told her before turning back to Street. “Let’s go inside. I want to check your blood pressure and reflexes.”
“Rosa, come with us,” Street insisted, holding the door open for her.
Breathing a silent sigh of relief, Rosa preceded them into the house. Street owed her something. He, at least, had a reason to keep her safe. Staying with him was her best move.
She stood in the corner of the kitchen out of the way as Razor ran Street through a superficial exam. She kept her eyes on the doctor. He appeared to know what he was doing. The Devil Daddies was a weird MC. Who had their own medical doctor?
The rumble of more bikes outside spurred Rosa to race to the window. A gigantic man led the pack down the drive. Holding her breath, she checked to see if they’d kept their word. Her red duffel sat strapped on the seat behind him. She turned to find Street observing with her.
“He brought more stuff from my place.”
“Wraith has a Little girl. He probably grabbed what he thought she would want while he was there.”
“A Little girl? Like a daughter?” Rosa asked.
“No, Rosa. Wraith doesn’t have any children. His Little girl is the love of his life, Caroline. She writes romance novels.”
Distracted by the thought that Inky was smothering in the duffle bag, Rosa couldn’t concentrate on his explanation. “Can we go out there?”
“Of course,” Street said, ushering her through the front door. Razor trailed behind them.
She hung back and let Street approach the huge man with a black beard first. “Wraith. That didn’t take too long. Thanks, brother.”