Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 148238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
I was suddenly thankful for staying at Kill’ s place. At least he ordered healthy food—even if he didn’t cook. I doubted I would’ve enjoyed a calorie-controlled diet if I’d been a guest of the compound.
Mo stood up, leaned over his brothers to fill a paper plate with two pieces of pizza, then skidded it down the table to me.
I caught it, unable to stop the growling in my stomach. Margherita and Meat Lover’s. I would’ve preferred Hawaiian but the flavor dancing on the air made my mouth water.
The room went quiet as the men helped themselves to pizza and someone brought in a cooler full of beer. I refused the offer and nibbled on my food while watching the rest of them.
My eyes kept returning to Lighter Boy, wishing I understood. The rest of the men looked dangerous with scars and piercings and the occasional feral glint in their eyes, but they were also… normal. They laughed and joked, spoke of mundane things while eating—chatting about family, grumbling about wives, and household chores. I found it mildly unsettling to be around such everyday life when society had already painted them with the “outlaw rebel” brush.
“Buttercup, eat your spaghetti. The meetin’s coming up and you know you can’t be here.”
I shoved the unwanted spaghetti around my plate, sulking. I wanted to listen in—after all, I was his only child and I needed to know how the Club was run, so I could take over when he was gone. But he never stopped reminding me that girls didn’t run the Club. That girls remained on the outskirts—being protected by the men like my dad, who did naughty things to keep up our way of existence.
“But I want to listen.”
He ducked to my eye level. “Go find your friend. He can help you with your homework.”
“Don’t wanna,” I pouted. I was ten years old and it sucked that the boy I’d always looked up to suddenly wanted nothing to do with me. He said he was too cool for kids.
Bully.
My dad laughed, ruffling my unruly hair. “Ah, Buttercup, don’t hate the boy. Mark my words, the minute you turn thirteen that kid will notice you again.”
A small smile spread my lips. “Really?”
My father grinned, his light blue-green eyes crinkling at the corners. His auburn hair was slightly darker than mine and I’d inherited the small freckles on my nose from my mother, who was a pure redhead.
“Truly. No boy or man will be able to resist you. And that’s why I’ll be ready to shoot him if he tries anything.”
The flashback ended, slipping me back into lunch conversation as gently as melting into a warm bath. My heart glowed with love. To remember my father—his face, his voice—it was more than I’d ever hoped for.
Unbelievably cherished.
Relief was swift and full of content. I’d finally earned a concrete puzzle piece in my hunt for answers.
“So, Sarah… what did Kill do to keep you entertained at his place?”
I took a bite of my pizza, letting the wash of conversation lap around me.
A finger poked me in the side. I narrowed my eyes. “What?”
Grasshopper frowned, pointing at a young biker with brown hair pulled back in a wet gel look. “He asked you a question.”
“He did?”
The guy nodded. “Yep, used your name and everything.”
The pizza slipped from my fingers. I should’ve jumped to his question—so in tune with the name I’d only just remembered. Shouldn’t I?
Ignoring the chill trickling down my back, I asked, “What was the question? Sorry.”
Mo spoke around a mouthful of pizza. “He was being an asshole.”
“Oh?”
He chuckled. “He wanted to know what Kill did to keep you ‘entertained.’ ” He waggled his eyebrows.
Two reactions rushed through me. One, to blush and look away. Two, to grin and play them at their own game. Two people lived inside me. The girl who lived abroad and studied hard, and the teenager who’d been brought up with men just like these and a confidence that only came from being around safety and family.
Keeping my eyes resolutely from Lighter Boy’s I said, “If you must know, he took me shopping, brought me lunch, and respected my boundaries.” I kept my face deadpan. The answer was, for all intents and purposes, true—the reply came from the mind of Sarah.
Sarah is quiet and serious.
My eyes went wide, my brain pointing out yet another twist in my journey to remember.
Then who was the vivacious girl who loved a biker’s son? Who was I when I kissed Kill so wildly in the changing room?
Grasshopper groaned. “Boring. Tell us the juice. I already know he fucked you.”
“Stop that.” I turned to stare at him. A strange bond had formed between us—not friendship or understanding—just mutual… respect? Or just a truce because we both knew I’d be leaving in a few hours. “You might know but I don’t want others to—”