Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 36353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 182(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 182(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
And I lost my fucking mind.
“Who’s seen this?” I snarled.
Midnight blinked once, calm as ever. “Just Deviant and me,” he said, referring to our resident tech genius. “Though I doubt Deviant really looked at them when he pulled the portfolio together.”
“It better fucking stay that way.” My tone was low and dangerous. A warning.
I already wanted to crack his head open and scrub the image from his mind. The thought of anyone else seeing Gemma like that caused my possessive feelings to turn murderous. When I found the son of a bitch who’d stolen that photo, he was gonna wish he’d never been born.
Midnight’s expression tightened, and his voice was low and steady when he said, “I’m going to let you explain that before I fire your ass.”
I didn’t want to fill him in. At that moment, neither Midnight nor Deviant knew there were photos of Gemma in the file, and I wasn’t happy with the idea of pointing it out. But Midnight didn’t make idle threats.
“The last photo. It’s the photographer.” My jaw clenched hard as I forced myself to admit I was feeling territorial over a woman I’d never even fucking met. “I don’t want anyone else seeing her like that.”
Midnight’s brows lifted, and something flickered in his eyes. “Maybe you’re not—”
“Mine,” I growled before I could stop myself.
Silence fell between us. I realized I was on my feet, knuckles white around the folder.
Finally, I cleared my throat and tried to level out my voice so I appeared calmer than I felt. “I’m taking this job.”
He studied me for a long beat. Something was working behind his dark eyes, and I prepared myself to face his wrath if he tried to hand Gemma over to someone else. It wasn’t gonna happen.
I had no idea why I was so determined to keep this case. Or why the fuck my body was on fire over a fucking picture. It made me feel like my mind and body weren’t my own. And that pissed me off. I was never, never out of control.
Eventually, he leaned back and gave a slow nod. “Alright. You meet her tomorrow. Lainie will bring her to The Midnight Rebel in the morning since you’re upgrading Savage’s security feed.”
I didn’t answer. Didn’t have to. Just turned and walked out.
A glance at my watch told me I was late for my shift at The Midnight Rebel.
Dammit. I was not in the fucking mood to grit my teeth through drunk assholes, slap away a few wandering hands, and pretend not to hear every groupie giggling over which biker they wanted to “accidentally” fall into.
But Savage was taking the night off, and I’d promised to fill in as extra security since Fridays were always chaos.
The walk to the bar only took a few minutes, but I spent it trying—and failing—to get my shit together.
I wouldn’t let this bombshell interfere with my life. For fuck’s sake. I didn’t even know the woman.
I wasn’t like my other brothers, who were already locked down and happily pussy-whipped. I’d stayed detached. Focused. Professional.
I’d never even looked twice at the women who hung around the bar. But now I couldn’t stop picturing Gemma on that couch. The image was burned into my brain.
When I got to the bar, the doors banged open as I stormed in.
“Late,” Savage muttered, glancing up from the prep work he was doing before the bar opened, and he bailed with his wife and kid.
“Take it up with Midnight,” I grunted as I marched toward the bar. “New assignment.”
I snatched a glass and a bottle of my favorite whiskey, poured two fingers, and tossed it back.
“Fucking client briefing,” I muttered. “What kind of a name is Gemma, anyway?”
Gorgeous.
That was what it fucking was.
Just like her.
Shit!
“Sounds soft. Too soft,” I muttered as I took the glass and whiskey with me into the kitchen. I poured a third drink and downed it slower this time. “Probably sweet. Probably fragile.”
But that wasn’t what had me on edge.
She was dangerous in a way I couldn’t explain.
And somehow, she already belonged to me.
Gemma Moffitt had no idea what she’d done to me. Or what I was going to do to the bastard who stole her photos.
But she was about to find out.
3
GEMMA
Ipaced back and forth across the hardwood floor in my living room, practically wearing a track through the wax while I waited for Lainie to arrive. My nerves were probably frayed more than they needed to be since she’d assured me that her brother’s club could help, but I couldn’t stop freaking out. Too much was on the line.
It wasn’t my reputation as a photographer that I was worried about. My expenses were low enough that I could survive for a long time on the rest of the money my parents had left me if my business failed. But my clients wouldn’t emotionally recover so easily from their privacy being invaded…and neither would I.