Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Sandra appears between me and Piston. "Is it over already?"
"Already?" I give her a look. “Were you hoping for a second round?”
She shrugs.
Beast's laugh echoes off the rafters. "Ease up there, battle maiden. You okay? Guessing so." He gives her a thorough look anyway, all the way down and back up, but pretty sure he's checking her out more than checking for damage. She did a good job holding her own.
"The fuck happened here?" There’s a long-haired guy in the doorway. From what I can see on his cut, I’m pretty sure it’s Hellfire, president of the Outlaw Sons.
With him is a second man with a hint of reddish beard and short blond hair. Ghost, the patch on his cut says. One of their VPs. “Screaming Eagles giving you trouble, Hector?”
This is getting old. "For fuck sake. Is grudge holding a national sport over here or what? "
Hector, the bat wielding bartender, laughs. "Hate to say it, but it wasn’t their fault. They showed up with the lady, we gave them a friendly amount of shit, and everything was fine until Rat decided he needed to avenge his cousin. It went downhill from there when the usual assholes decided it would be a good chance to make history.”
Ghost snorts derisively. “Don’t start a dick measuring contest if you can’t measure up.”
Hellfire walks over, Ghost right behind. "Everything good? Eagle-eye doing alright?"
"The usual bullshit but Prez has it under control. I’ll let him know you care,” Piston says.
Hellfire barks out a laugh. "You do that. And tell him you degenerates are spreading that sharing an old lady curse. Be good if he kept that shit in his own club."
Ghost's lip twitches ever so slightly before settling right back to humorless stone. Dunno if anyone else noticed, but I'm giving three to one odds that he's one of them.
I put my arm around Sandra’s waist. "Sorry, we haven’t found a cure for it yet."
Hellfire nods. "Gonna grab my beer then. Officially, you’re welcome to stay, but man to man, I recommend you boys don’t linger too much or the rabble will have time to regroup."
"Think we're done here, anyway." I tip an imaginary hat to Hellfire.
A moment later, we're on the road, the air blowing in our hair and the salty breeze coming in off the ocean. Out on the water, far in the distance, the green and red lights of passing ships tell us which way they're going. This stretch is open, a slice of open coastline between cities, one of the few places where you don't have to pass through a gate to get to the water.
Sandra pats me on the shoulder and points when a sign says: "Public Beach Next Exit."
I nod and pull ahead of the others, signaling for them to follow.
12
SANDRA
It would be easy to lean into Zero’s warm back and let the solid reassurance of his body and the rumble of the bike wash over me as we head back. But the bar fight cut our date short, and I’m not ready for everything to end yet.
The beach is little more than a dirt parking lot and a few picnic tables. It’s a narrow, natural cove with rocky walls on either side. Now that it’s dark, we’re the only ones here. It makes it feel almost private. Intimate. The guys park right up next to the sand. I dismount, making sure my legs are holding up this time.
“Any particular reason you wanted to stop?” Beast asks.
“I was having fun.” I start pulling my boots off. “Are you so eager to get back?”
A moment later, there are four pairs of boots standing together before the sand, and we're walking down the beach together.
"What a night," Piston says. He slides an arm around me and pulls me in.
I'm not sure whether he means the fight, the warm weather, the nearly full moon lighting up the beach, or something else. It all feels nice right now. I wander over to a big rock near the water. The bulk of it is on the sand, but at the far end, waves slosh onto it in a relaxing pattern.
"I wanted to thank you guys for keeping me safe." The leather jacket was a nice buffer on the bike, but now it's a little warm. I take off my jacket and toss it on the rock where it will stay dry.
Zero holds up a hand. "Whoa, hold on. You don’t owe us shit."
"What?” It takes me a second. “Presume much? I wasn't offering to strip for you.”
A laugh slips out, and once I start, I can't stop. The guys look at each other, then back at me trapped in massive giggle fit. Their expressions only make me laugh harder. When I finally manage to get myself under control, I'm wiping tears from my eyes.