Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 33577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
I nodded. "It was my mother’s recipe. Wren stressed the importance of the perfect mac and cheese and how it could possibly help cement my place here." I smiled at him. “You know. However long that is.”
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Tastes like Ghost's grandma's."
"Highest compliment in this place," Wren called from her seat next to me, raising her beer in a mock toast.
As the meal progressed, I found myself relaxing, even joining in the banter when one of the younger members tried to explain why my cornbread wasn't as good as his mother's. The look of shock on his face when I told him his mother's cornbread probably tasted like sawdust if he was any indication of her cooking skills had the whole table erupting in laughter. Even Jack belly laughed at that one.
Jack's leg pressed against mine under the table, a warm, solid presence that anchored me in the unfamiliar setting. Every so often, his hand would brush against mine when reaching for his drink, each touch deliberate and lingering.
When it was time for dessert, I slipped into the kitchen to retrieve Jack's pie, still warm from the oven. The room quieted slightly as I placed it in front of him, the scent of baked apples rising in the steam.
"Wren told me it's your favorite," I said, suddenly shy under his intense gaze.
Jack caught my wrist as I started to pull away, his grip gentle but firm. He tugged me down until his lips were near my ear, his beard tickling my cheek.
"Thank you," he murmured, his voice rough with an emotion I couldn't name. "Not just for the pie. For all of it."
The room had gone noticeably quieter, the men watching this unusual display from their typically stoic president. I felt heat creep up my neck, but didn't pull away.
"You're welcome," I whispered back, breathing in his scent.
When I straightened and returned to my seat, conversations gradually resumed, though I caught more than a few curious glances. Wren gave me a cocky smirk like this had all been part of her plan. Wouldn’t surprise me in the least if she played matchmaker with me. I just didn’t know how Jack would appreciate her meddling in his life.
As the night wound down and members began drifting away in twos and threes, Jack's hand found my thigh under the table. His palm was warm through my jeans, his thumb making small passes back and forth that sent shivers racing up my spine. I nearly choked on my beer when those circles moved higher, dangerously close to the seam of my jeans.
I glanced at him, expecting to find amusement at my reaction, but his expression was serious, intent. Those blue eyes had darkened to the color of a storm tossed sea, and when they locked with mine, I saw raw, unfiltered need there. A mirror of what I was feeling, though I wasn't ready to admit it even to myself. At least, not in a sense there could be anything happening between me and this man. I didn’t want to have sex with him. Right?
The promise in that look stole my breath. Lust only scratched the surface of what I saw in his eyes. Something that made my heart race with equal parts excitement and fear. Because despite the danger, the property vest, and the bizarre circumstances that had brought us together, I started seeing the man behind the "Bloody Jack" persona.
And God help me, I wanted him.
Chapter 5
Jack
The blood hadn't even dried on the ground when Ghost found me. His face, normally unreadable, told me everything I needed to know before he opened his mouth.
"We found Flowerz," he said, his voice low enough that no one could hear. "Back edge of the property. By the old fence line."
My jaw clenched so hard I thought I might crack a tooth. "Dead?"
Ghost nodded once. "Strangled with her own weight. Those fuckin’ snare ties Shank likes to do to terrorize club whores at the Copperheads when he’s feelin’ bloody and can’t kill. Looks like this time he let her slowly strangle to death. Once she was too weak to hold her position, she died."
I closed my eyes briefly, seeing Flowerz in my mind. Young club girl, barely twenty-one, with that ridiculous flower tattoo covering half her face. Always laughing, always eager to please. And she’d been the woman Honey had identified in that hallway with Shank right before all hell broke loose.
"Been missin’ since that night. I really figured she’d gone. Cut her losses and skipped out."
"Bug said she’d been feeding Shank information for months. I don’t get the whole ins and outs of how he finds shit out but it had something to do with her phone and how all these ads suddenly appear in my browser when I talk about something I want to buy. Anyway, apparently she filled him in on what little club business she knew while she fucked him. And I mean that literally." Ghost's expression hardened. "We found burner phones, cash. She was on their payroll."