Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 133975 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 670(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133975 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 670(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
He refused to feel guilty. He needed to get his point across to her. She was five foot nothing and weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet. She had no business attacking men with a blow-dryer, let alone facing off with a man with a gun just so she could toss Keys a pair of scissors. The memory of those few seconds would haunt him for the rest of his life. He’d thought he’d lost her.
His fist tightened even more at the thought. A protest. A gut reaction. He was used to being in control of everything around him. He guarded Steele, the VP of Torpedo Ink, his club. He faced down members of other clubs easily. He had a reputation. His club counted on him when the going got rough, and he always came through. Because he had complete control.
It had taken a concentrated effort to get past Lyric’s reserve. She didn’t trust. Others didn’t see it. They thought they had a relationship with her, but like him, she gave a false impression of who she was. No one ever got beyond that first layer. Only Keys had.
He’d worked at it without knowing why, and he’d gotten the real woman. Sunshine and laughter. Shocking intelligence. She was amazing and could talk to him on any subject with ease. Every day he was away from her, even during his regular club duties, he found himself missing her. Wondering what she was up to. Worried some asshole would convince her to go out with him. She certainly got enough invitations.
He’d gotten her trust, and now he felt her withdrawal. Hell no. She wasn’t using his justified anger to drive a wedge between them. Unfortunately, he couldn’t confront her. She was exhausted and hurting. He didn’t have any painkillers to give her. The small first aid kit was mostly empty. It didn’t even have an aspirin in it.
He wrapped his arms around her, surrounding her with strength and safety. Very gently he massaged her back in a small circular motion. Each time he encountered one of those strange scars, he traced it with the pad of his finger. She had more on her front than her back, but she had them.
He found her arms and began to massage them as well. He couldn’t imagine how she’d managed to make that throw when her arms had been numb. He’d had enough prisoners and been one enough times to know what happened when arms were put the way hers had been. She hadn’t had enough time to fully get back feeling. He wasn’t certain how she’d done it, but she had. Determination, courage and sheer grit.
He felt the moment she drifted off. He didn’t want to take chances with her head wound, but he was every bit as tired as she was. It wouldn’t hurt to lay it down for a moment. He’d positioned her shoes and his boots on the floor below the heater. They would have to dry along with his jeans and hers. He sent up a small prayer that the heater would last long enough to get it done.
He made a list in his head of everything he would need to do before they abandoned the truck. He wished they could stay, use it as shelter, at least until Lyric was stronger, but he knew that would be suicide. They weren’t equipped to go head-to-head with the bosses of the clowns that attacked them.
He’d spent three months investigating the Headed for Hell club. Rumor had it that they used the mountains and caves to hide guns, drugs and trafficked victims. He was good at sniffing out corruption. He’d ridden into town with his partner, Destroyer, another Torpedo Ink member. Neither wore their colors and both felt naked without them. It had been a relief when Czar, their president, called them back, and they could slide into their cuts, wearing them like a second skin.
But he hadn’t stayed away. And he hadn’t told anyone where he went when he disappeared. He’d mentioned to his VP, Steele, that he was going to get a haircut once. He didn’t know why he kept returning, and he didn’t want to have to try to explain. Now Lyric was going to pay for that fuckup. His club would have been there in a heartbeat if he hadn’t already established a pattern of being gone a week or more at a time.
He’d missed something in the investigation. The Headed for Hell club must have identified him. It was possible. Two of the members of Headed for Hell had come one night to their roadhouse when Keys was playing with the band. They hadn’t stayed long, and neither club member acted as if they remembered him.
Torpedo Ink did their best to keep a low profile, but they did a lot of work for other clubs. They were considered a support club to the Diamondbacks, one of the largest clubs worldwide. When they’d first become Torpedo Ink in Diamondback territory, they’d had eighteen original members. They’d taken on two of Czar’s brothers and Destroyer. Then Rock earned his full patch.