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’s helmet moved from the center of his back. Street guessed she was peeking out. “I’m their favorite,” he quipped.
Those around them laughed. “In your dreams, Street. All those ladies are in love with me,” Toxin said.
“They’re infatuated with Diablo. Everyone wants the leader,” Scythe suggested. “He’s the baddest biker of the bunch.”
Diablo gunned his engine, underlining that statement before joining the banter. “Don’t you forget it.”
Street chuckled. Lucien wasn’t amused or light-hearted often. Street had recently moved up from a prospect to a full member of the Devil Daddies MC. He might be relatively new to the group, but he’d shown up consistently and pursued greater involvement and responsibilities with every group interaction. The others treated him as if he’d hung with them for years.
Present for so many of the skirmishes that had united his MC brothers with their Littles, Street had hoped to be as lucky. As soon as he’d figured out all the members were Daddies, Street understood what had drawn him to the group. They were wired just like he was.
Feeling Rosa squirm as their speed decreased, Street squeezed Rosa’s leg. “We’re almost there.” He tried to ignore the allure of her body moving against his. He definitely didn’t want to step off his bike with an obvious erection.
“You’re okay with me staying with you?” she asked quietly when they stopped to wait their turn to go through the gate into the compound. Pirate waved his brothers through and welcomed them home.
“You can live here as long as you’d like,” he answered truthfully, hoping he could convince her to remain with him way past the point where she was safe again.
“Thanks,” she whispered.
When he rolled up to Pirate, Street said, “This is Rosa. She’ll be with me for a while.”
“ID?” Pirate asked, and Rosa stiffened behind him.
“Unavailable,” Street answered for her.
“Last name?” Pirate asked.
“Why do you need to know?” Rosa challenged him.
“Because that’s my job as the ruler of the guard shack,” Pirate told her.
“He’s joking, Rosa. Pirate has a wicked sense of humor. Give him your name for his list of approved visitors and let him take a picture. He’s not going to call the cops on you or inform anyone where you are,” Street reassured her.
“Serrano.”
“Got it.” Pirate snapped a quick photo and stepped out of the way. His gaze fixed on Street’s, who easily read the question in the guard’s mind. Who was she, and why had she hesitated to identify herself? They both suspected there was a story there.
Pirate would work on solving the mystery as soon as everyone cleared the gate. Street would check in with him later. He didn’t need to know for himself. Street already trusted Rosa. If she’d meant to hurt him, she never would have risked everything to help him get away. The possibility of helping Rosa was most important to him.
Street drove through the quiet cabins to the second to last on the right. Each full member of the MC had the ability to personalize the blueprint of a cabin if they wanted to live in the compound. Street had selected one of the prefabricated cabins that visitors could stay in while he built the cabin plan he’d tweaked. The outer shell was already finished, and Street had started finalizing the interior with the help of several MC members who enjoyed working with their hands.
He chuckled inside as he imagined how his family would have reacted to seeing him smooth the concrete foundation and frame the cabin. They’d endured his military service, viewing it as a path to a political or other leadership position. But they’d stopped talking to him when he’d “lost his mind,” or as Street viewed it, wised up and escaped from the rat race. When Street had joined the Devil Daddies MC, they’d severed ties with him, whispering “PTSD” to their friends and neighbors. The only trauma Steele dealt with was having lost a few years to a concrete jungle.
He pulled into the driveway of the guest cabin equipped by the MC. The place was great, but he was looking forward to his own. Rosa got off and stepped away as he triggered the garage door opener. Street maneuvered the bike around to back the motorcycle inside.
Once on his feet, he walked toward Rosa and removed the helmet for her. This one was too big. He’d need to get her protective headgear that fit.
“He’s going to find out I have a warrant out against me,” Rosa told him. Her expression was guarded.
Her trust in sharing this with him rocked Street. He suspected she confided in very few people, if any. “Okay. Are you going to hurt anyone here in the compound?” Street asked.
“What? No!” Rosa bristled at the suggestion.
“Okay. Then we’re good. Come on in.”
“You don’t want me to leave?”
“No. Are you hungry?” Street asked, watching her face. A quick flash of relief played over her features before she wiped the expression away. He hated that Rosa had expected him to think the worst of her and kick her out.