Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79349 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79349 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Shoot.
I quickly ring up the coffee and gesture at the screen by the register before keying the amount into the card machine. The man taps the same black credit card, and just like yesterday, he takes the receipt when I offer it to him.
Muriel rushes into the store, then her eyes land on the man. Her right eyebrow pops up, and her lips part as she blatantly checks him out from head to toe.
“Have a good night, Jenna,” the man says.
Shyly, I dare a quick glance at his face while I nod, a slight smile wavering around my mouth.
When he walks out of the store, I grab Muriel’s pack of cigarettes and place it down on the counter.
As she takes it and sets down the correct amount of cash, she asks, “Who’s the hot man?”
I shrug and shake my head.
“You don’t know?” she shoots another question my way.
I shake my head and focus on opening the register so I can place the cash inside the drawer.
“I’d give my left tit for a one-night stand with him,” she mumbles as she leaves the store, her eyes fixed on the man as he’s climbing into his SUV.
Just like yesterday, he doesn’t drive off immediately, but I can’t see what he’s doing because the windows are tinted black.
Even after Muriel is gone, the SUV still doesn’t move, and I wonder if he’s drinking the coffee.
Curious, I Google the brand of his wristwatch, and my eyebrows fly up when I see how much one costs.
Holy crap, that’s expensive.
I glance at the SUV again, wondering why a man who’s dressed like him and clearly has money would stop at this little gas station for our crappy coffee?
Chapter 4
ENZO
I’ve been in the States for a week, and I haven’t made much progress dealing with the MC because I’m too busy stalking Jenna.
After visiting the factory and learning that the MC club has been beating up the workers, I’ve put in an order with the island for a security team to guard the premises.
They arrived yesterday, and now that I don’t have to worry about the factory and workers, I’m driving toward the dive bar where the bikers are known to hang out.
Every night I watch Jenna, and during the days, I get a few hours of sleep before trying to do something productive.
It’s not normal behavior for me, but I can’t keep myself away from that damn gas station.
Luckily, I haven’t heard shit about the bastard I killed the night I arrived. I’ve asked the control room on the island to keep an eye out for any chatter regarding the murder, but so far, nothing has turned up.
I’ve also asked them to find out everything they can about Jenna. All I could give them was a photo of her, her name, and where she works, so the team has their work cut out for them.
My phone starts ringing, and I glance down at the screen. Seeing John’s name, I accept the call.
“What?”
“Hi, boss. I just want to check in with you. How are things in Aurora?”
“Fine. Any problems in Lisbon?”
“No. It’s quiet here, so I can come to the States to join you.”
“No, stay in Lisbon.”
Approaching the bar, where motorcycles are parked, I end the call without another word.
I’m dressed in my usual suit, so I’m going to stand out like a sore thumb, but I don’t give two shits.
I stop the SUV at the front, blocking a couple of bikes, and switch off the engine. Just as I’m about to open the door, my phone beeps with an incoming message. Seeing it’s from the island, I quickly open it.
Full Name: Jenna Dotson
Age: 26
Birthday: 08/01
I devour every single piece of information, learning that she doesn’t have a father and that her mother resides in Florida. She started working at the gas station right out of school, and her credit rating is very low because she doesn’t make enough to survive.
Her bank statement shows a balance of eighteen dollars. She makes a withdrawal once a week, and there’s only one subscription going off at the end of every month.
She’s lived in Aurora all her life, and I wonder why she didn’t move to Florida with her mother.
There’s a photo of a cheerleading team, showing Jenna in a white and blue uniform, a wide smile on her face, and her chin lifted high. It’s from an article in the local newspaper, congratulating the team for winning some kind of competition.
I keep staring at the younger girl, taking in the happiness shining from her eyes.
The woman I met at the gas station and the girl in the photo could be two different people.
I glance up, my gaze narrowing as I process the meager information I’ve learned about the shy woman with the mesmerizing eyes.
From the moment I laid eyes on Jenna, I became obsessed with her. I should be worried about the strong reaction I have toward her, but instead, I find myself curious to know more.