Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 118332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Even so, he hoped she was done talking about her father’s disappearance because the whole thing was making his skin crawl. He’d feel bad for her if her dad turned out to be a casualty of the shit that went down.
Because if he was a Fury member and he survived that mess, Ozzy couldn’t imagine he wouldn’t have packed up his family and gotten them the fuck out of town. Most of the women took their children and bolted, like Stella’s, Trip’s, and even Sig’s mom.
He hoped to fuck whatever happened to the man had nothing to do with the colors on Ozzy’s back.
He hoped to fuck he had no part of it, either, since as a prospect he’d done some crazy fucking shit that could’ve landed him on death row. But to get in good with the club until he could find out who killed his mother, he had to follow orders.
He had been laser-focused on one goal and didn’t give a fuck what he had to do to reach it.
Ozzy stood at the end of the pool table, watching her take her next shot. When she did, she missed.
He could use his turn to clean up, finish the game and get the fuck out of there.
Because, fuck, she wasn’t done talking about it.
After making a little noise of disappointment at the missed shot, she had straightened and turned back to him. He noticed the sheen in her eyes. She loved her fucking father and his disappearance still caused her pain all these years later.
No wonder she wanted closure.
“I was so desperate to find him, I hopped on my bicycle and rode through town one day hoping to find out anything I could. I asked everyone if they’d seen him. I even discovered that the club had a warehouse at the other end of town and one day rode all the way there, just to be sure. Or even ask anyone I could find there.”
Christ all-fuckin-mighty. A barely sixteen-year-old girl going to the fucking warehouse alone. That could have been completely disastrous. He was almost afraid to ask, “What’d you see?” but he needed to know.
He could read the disappointment on her face. “Nothing. Just a big, ugly metal building that looked deserted.”
“You go inside?” He held his breath while waiting for her answer.
“No, all the doors were chained shut. I tried to look in the windows but they’d been spray-painted from the inside. I assume to keep anyone like me from doing that.”
Thank fuck. “Club liked their privacy,” he mumbled. For good fucking reason.
He went back over to their table, downed the rest of the drink she couldn’t finish, then grabbed his stick.
As much as he wanted to spend more time with her, it was time to go.
He needed to talk to some of his brothers and see if anyone recognized her father’s name.
He hoped to fuck they didn’t.
The problem was, he didn’t know if she was checking out of the motel in the morning or staying another night since he never looked at the details of her reservation.
Here he was now rushing the fucking night away because he was the one who got spooked. Yeah, he shouldn’t be but his gut was telling him something different.
He moved around the table, taking shots and sinking them one after the other until the only balls left on the table were the stripes, the cue ball and the eight ball.
This game could be over in less than a minute.
He set up the shot that would finish it, he glanced over his shoulder and spotted the expression on her face.
Confusion.
Maybe a little bit of hurt.
God-fuckin-damnit.
“You could’ve won a long time ago,” she said.
He turned his attention back to the table, took his last shot and watched the eight ball fall into the pocket he’d called with a tap of his stick.
When he straightened, he muttered, “Yeah, sweetheart, I coulda.”
He put his stick back in the wall rack and when he went over to get hers she asked, “That’s it, then, huh?”
He took the stick from her fingers and gave her a single nod. “Yeah, that’s it.” Once he put hers away, he returned to her. “Gonna talk to Dutch tomorrow and ask if he recognizes your dad’s name. You leavin’ in the mornin’?”
She stared up at him, her brow wrinkled. “I planned on hiking the Grand Canyon tomorrow. Maybe afterward, explore the town a little and grab a meal at Dino’s Dinner. I’m heading back to Boston Monday morning.”
That gave him a day to do a little digging.
But did it really matter if her father was a Fury member or not? Or if the Fury made the man disappear? Would anything change for her? Because if he was and he met his end at the same time some of the others did, would she really want to hear that? Or is it better to let her keep wondering?