Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
When I walked outside, I found Detroit standing there, giving me a nod, then walking toward the street.
“What’s up?”
“I came to take the SUV,” Detroit explained. “Judge is going to come by to trade my bike for Dell’s car, so you guys can get back to the clubhouse.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “How bad was it?”
“Looks like he puked himself to death,” Detroit said, pulling no punches. “Vomit and blood fucking everywhere. Fitting end for such a bastard. So the guys are working on it,” he said, shrugging. “We are going to need to pretty much gut the room.”
“I don’t think Bayleigh will be moving back in after all this,” I said, feeling a twinge of sadness for her. After she finally got away from him, to have him come back for her like that, to ruin the safety she felt in her own home, that had to be horrible.
“Yeah, Everleigh said as much when Dell was packing them into her car. So we are just getting it crime-scene-clean-up clean, then she can sell, or whatever the fuck she is gonna do with it.”
“The cops haven’t gotten word?”
“Nah. Everything is quiet. And the girls know not to say anything, considering the outcome. No one wants Morgaine to go to jail. She okay?”
“She’s in good hands. Gonna be here a while,” I said, shrugging.
“Yeah, it’s gonna be a long morning,” he said.
“Thanks for doing this.”
“Hey, she’s your girl. That means we clean up her messes too. That’s how it works. You got the keys?”
I tossed them to him, and watched him pull away.
Eventually, Judge and Dell showed up for the switch.
I sat with Morgaine as her heart rate slowly returned to normal, as did her blood pressure.
Dr. Price did a quick X-ray in his back room, then put a pale green cast on her wrist, giving her a list of instructions for that recovery, as well as how easy he wanted her to take it for the next week or so.
“I will make sure of it,” I told him, reaching down to sweep her up into my arms.
“I can walk,” she insisted, even as she rested her head on my chest.
“You heard the doctor. As little activity as possible,” I reminded her. “Thanks again, Doc,” I said, giving him a nod since I couldn’t shake his hand.
“Anytime. I want to see her in three days for a re-check.”
“She will be here,” I told him.
“Sorry we interrupted your sleep,” Morgaine said, giving him a tired smile.
“Hey, that’s all part of the job,” he told us as he walked us to the door. I’d already told him to send the bill to me when I caught him outside the room for a second. “Feel better, Morgaine,” Dr. Price called before moving back into his office, likely cleaning up before he headed back to bed for a short nap before the office opened for the day.
“You okay?” I asked as we started the drive back to the clubhouse.
“I’m just tired. But kind of afraid to sleep.”
“No reason to be afraid. I’ll be right there, keeping an eye on you. You’re safe.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Morgaine
You’re safe.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever truly felt that way until that very moment. Not in my entire life.
But there was no denying the warm, comfortable sensation that worked its way through my system as we drove away from the doctor’s office.
Crow’s hand went to my thigh, holding onto me the whole way, then only released me to come around the hood and swoop me into his arms again.
It was like something out of a movie, not real life.
I didn’t think men like him actually existed.
Ones who would search all through the night to find you, would stay by your side at the doctor, would carry you around like you were something precious.
And, yes, ones who would put your chickens away because he knew you would be upset about them being at risk.
He was one of the good ones, my Crow.
Each moment I spent with him just solidified that in my mind, in my soul.
“It’s probably a fucking wreck,” Crow said as he carried me toward the door of the clubhouse. “There was a party going on when I left,” he explained as he fumbled with the door before it suddenly opened.
And there was yet another stupidly good-looking guy. Black hair and eyes, golden skin, and a tattoo of a bird beside his eye.
“Morgaine, this is Coach. Coach, Morgaine,” Crow said as we moved inside to the distinct smell of lemon and a hint of bleach.
From the looks of things, Coach had been hard at work cleaning up the party while the other bikers were gone.
The clubhouse was somehow both exactly what I expected, and not what I expected at all.
It was a mix of industrial and finished—like the old windows and the rusty beams across the ceiling—and very meticulously finished seating and gaming area, and the massive kitchen.