Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 106284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
What the hell?
“Scientists did studies and proved they can retain memories for a month, sometimes longer.” He snaps a chunk off and chews.
“Where does the saying come from then?” Rogue asks.
“Idiots presuming because they’re small, they must have tiny brains.”
“You learn something new every day.” I raise a brow at Rogue, who bites her inner cheek.
“Knowledge is power. You should never stop trying to learn new things.” He nods then holds out his half-eaten piece of dried flesh. “Want a bite of my meat?”
Scrunching my nose, I shake my head. “No, I’m good. But thanks.”
“Please yourself.”
“I often do.”
“Ha!” Rogue barks. “I love you. I’m so glad you found Trevor.”
“You could have saved me the twisted experience and just told me weeks ago when I asked.”
“You know now. That’s what’s important.”
“Actually, what’s important is getting answers out of Trevor.” Monster moves back to the wall and stabs a pin through Trevor’s image. “The meet is supposed to happen tomorrow. I need to make Trevor talk fast. He’s already losing blood.”
“Is the plan to go in his stead and play along pretending to be him, or ambush the fucker and get answers with pain?”
“I can already tell you’re going to be an asset to the team.” Monster smirks. “We need to know if they’ve exchanged pictures or descriptions before we make a plan.”
“Monster’s plans usually end with them on the table,” Rogue informs me.
“Or in a ditch,” he adds.
“Well, as long as we don’t end up in a ditch or on a psycho’s table, I’m good with anything.”
“Good,” Monster grunts.
“What happens if they have seen photos of each other?” I ask.
“Then we go to plan B.” Rogue’s complexion pales.
“Is that the ambush and table?”
“No—that’s where one of you come in.” He places his hands on his hips and juts his chin in my direction.
“What do I do?”
I sweep my gaze between them both, immediately wishing I hadn’t asked when he says, “You be the bait.”
CHAPTER 33
BABY DADDY
CUTTER
Me: Where are you? It’s not mine, Kit.
Me: Answer your phone.
Me: Let me at least explain. I DIDN’T KNOW SHE WAS GOING TO DO THIS.
Me: Where are you?
Still no reply. I’m practically vibrating with the need to go find her. Instead, I’m stuck here with Claire trying to wade through the carnage of the bomb she just dropped.
“Rocco is out there. He’ll be worried if I don’t get back, Liam.”
“Shut up. I’m thinking and waiting on Callan.”
“Why?” She leaps up from the bed, her eyes going to the bedroom door.
Pulling my eyes away from my phone, I narrow them on her. “Because we need to decide what the hell we’re going to do with you.”
Her face drops, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths, nearly spilling her tits from the barely there red bikini top. “I won’t tell Michael about the baby. I was upset and lashing out.”
“What’s with the bandage?” I ask, ignoring her bullshit. I can’t unhear the threat she made. She didn’t outright say she’d tell him about Nicolas, but her intent was clear. Being around him at all is bad enough, but fucking him? She’s lost her damn mind. Playing with fire, she seems to enjoy the danger.
Covering the strip of material with her hand, she shakes her head. “Nothing.” Her cheeks heat, and she tries to turn away from me. We’re in my bedroom. There’s nowhere for her to hide.
“Claire…” I growl, “what did you do now?”
She swipes her hands through her hair and tucks it behind her ears, lifting her chin. “I wanted my tattoo.”
“What tattoo?” Anger spreads through my limbs, tightening my hands into fists.
“My ol’ lady tattoo.”
This better be a joke. “Show me.”
Pulling the bandage away, she pouts. The dark squiggle of black ink is rimmed in an angry red.
Property of…
Snorting, I grind my teeth. I warned her never to ask me for the tattoo most ol’ ladies get to honor their men once they’re married. The only person I want to have my name is Kitty.
“They wouldn’t finish it.” Her lips twist, humiliation burning her skin to a shade lighter than her bikini.
Members have to be there to give the nod for these tattoos. Any inkers who value their business and life know better than to tattoo our insignia or road names on anyone who isn’t a brother. “It’s a good thing too or I’d have to take the tit you just paid all that money to fill.” My fucking money.
Blanching, her mouth parts. “I am your ol’ lady in the eyes of the club, Liam.”
Before I can formulate a response, knuckles tap on the door. “Cutter,” Callan calls out before entering without waiting for a reply.
Covering the black ink up, Claire gulps and takes the couple steps to put my bed between her and us.
“What the hell is going on?” he demands with a menacing growl.