Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“That’s a yeah,” Voss said, letting out a snort. “What’d you do?”
“Like our town, it’s a little complicated. But it boils down to her dating another guy in the town. Jase Mallick.”
“Mallick,” Voss repeated. “The loansharks?”
“Yeah, but back then, Jase wasn’t in the family business yet. He was just a guy who had locked down Louana.”
“Let me guess, you couldn’t keep your hands off what was his.”
“She wasn’t his. I mean, she was, but Lulu wasn’t ever a cheater. She got clear of him before she let me move in.”
“And then?”
“And then I moved in. For a couple weeks.” A couple of all-consuming, overwhelming, almost terrifying in its intensity weeks.
“And then?” Voss asked again, tone rough, wanting me to get to the point.
“And then I packed up my shit one morning and peeled out of town.”
I turned to face him then, trying to gauge his reaction. I should have known better. Voss had a killer fucking poker face. The only time you could really read him was when he was pissed.
“Without saying shit,” Voss concluded.
I exhaled hard at that. “Yeah. Without saying shit.”
“Kinda cool with her bleeding you dry,” Voss said, shocking the shit out of me.
I mean, the man liked women. As a sort of hobby. A good time. But I’d never known him to have any sort of actual attachment to them.
So him siding with a woman he didn’t know was surprising to say the least.
“I’m not the most civil of men,” he said, sensing my shock. “But I figure that shit isn’t how it works when you give a shit about someone. Unless you didn’t give a shit about her.”
“I did,” I told him. “And you’re right. It was a fucked thing to do.”
“So, let me ask again,” he said, pinning me with a hard look. “She what you’ve been running from all these years?”
“To an extent, I guess,” I admitted for the first time aloud. Or even to myself.
“And running away from the shithead version of you who’d do that kind of thing?” he asked.
Voss was not known for having a filter. He didn’t weigh his words or bite his tongue. It rubbed a lot of people the wrong way, and I could see why.
I’d always found him kind of refreshing.
“Yeah, think that might be part of it too,” I agreed, thinking of the careless, selfish, and scared asshole I’d been back then.
“Got a chance to prove you’re not him anymore,” he said, shrugging.
“Yeah, if she’ll let me,” I agreed. “Lulu isn’t exactly… reasonable. Or level-headed,” I added, thinking of her quick temper. I used to marvel at the way it would burn bright, consuming everything in its path, and how I somehow never ended up burnt in the process, even when I was who got in the way of her anger and her target at times.
“Got weeks. Months. Years. Figure it out,” Voss said, turning away from the ocean he liked so much. “Saw a sign for an ice cream place.”
With that, he made his way toward town, leaving me to follow behind, biting my tongue because I’d end up with a fist in my face if I said what I was thinking right then.
That it seemed like Dezi’s ridiculous eating habits were rubbing off on Voss.
It was no secret that the two of them were oil and water. Dezi was too light and easy, with a devil hidden underneath. Voss wore the devil on his sleeve.
And their devils? Yeah, they didn’t get along.
The two were going to really get into it one day, and I hated to think how many of us it was going to take to get between them. Or how it would be possible for them to come back from that and become brothers in a club that would demand it of them.
Dezi was patched.
He’d proven himself valuable quite a bit already.
Which meant that if it came to choosing sides, Fallon would be forced to choose Dezi. And send Voss packing.
It was why I’d been working my ass off to run interference between the two. Not only because I owed Voss my life. But because he’d been a good friend to me during some rough times on the road. I didn’t want to see him leave, to go off to who-knew what fate.
So I didn’t say shit about the ice cream.
“You done being a pussy?” Voss asked suddenly a few hours later, making my head snap over to face him, a smirk toying with my lips.
“What?”
“Being a pussy. Hiding out here when you know you need to deal with your shit.”
“Yeah,” I said, shaking my head. Eloquent, he was not. But he sure as shit got his point across. “I guess I’m done being a pussy,” I agreed.
Though a part of me maybe only agreed because it was late already, and I figured that by the time we got back to the clubhouse, Louana would be asleep, giving me the whole night to wrap my head around this new development.