Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 72122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
I should lie, because if I told the truth, then she’d want to know more.
Especially knowing that her favorite branch was the Navy.
But it wasn’t the Navy that was the hard part of this discussion, it was what I did after the Navy.
A killer for hire wasn’t something that most women wanted to see on the resume of the man they were interested in. Though, I guess I wasn’t exactly a killer for hire, but I did a lot of killing and got paid for it.
But that was what happened in the black ops unit called Crow.
A unit I would still belong to had I not had one really bad experience that changed my life and forced me to slow down.
Though, Crow did do right by me. However, that had a lot to do with Sean, aka Seanshine, another biker and member of The Dixie Wardens. Sean had been a member of Crow with me, and after I’d nearly died, I’d gotten out, and he immediately introduced me to the Dixie Wardens.
The Dixie Wardens had taken me in, made me whole again, and in the process, had saved my life.
“Yes,” I finally answered, bracing myself for the next question.
I was sure she could feel the tenseness that had slid throughout my body, but the woman was curious by nature. She was going to ask, and I prepared myself for the onslaught of questions.
“What branch?”
My belly tightened.
“The Navy.”
Her gasp of surprise and delight didn’t send warm flurries of excitement through me like it would’ve once done.
Instead, it sent dread and fear through me.
Because it was inevitable now.
She’d want to know everything.
When I got out. Why I got out. Where I went after that. What I did.
And those were all questions she asked, and I answered each and every one until the last one.
“I…it’s hard to talk about.” I finally settled on as an answer for her question about what I did once I got out. “I’ll eventually tell you, but right now…at night…it’s neither the time nor the place.”
She frowned, and opened her mouth to say something, and irrational anger surged through me.
“I gotta go,” I mumbled.
Then I stood up, ignoring her cry to wait, and marched through her fancy-ass house as fast as my booted feet would take me without actually running.
Because Truth Reacher didn’t run.
Not from anyone or anything.
Not even a half-pint sized woman with the ass of an angel who scared the absolute shit out of me.
I got on my bike and looked at the house one last time before leaving, not surprised to see her in the window that overlooked the carport.
She had no clue that the subject she’d touched on wasn’t just a sensitive one. I’d almost lost my life.
Multiple times.
Knowing that I needed to talk to someone who knew the situation but wouldn’t give me biased opinions, I rode straight to my pop’s place.
And it gave me the perfect excuse to go there, because I knew he didn’t want me bringing up the incident that’d taken place the last time I’d been there.
I’d meant to ask him about the incident at the bar a few days ago, but I’d been so busy with work and classes that it fell onto the back burner.
Now, though, I was done with my current work in progress, class was canceled for the night due to no electricity, and my pop’s pub was closed.
It was open every single day except for Tuesdays, which was the night my Grams went to bingo.
And she would walk if she had to, but Pop never let her.
In fact, Pop loved Grams so much that he closed down his pub on Tuesdays just so he could take her. Then he went there and sat in his empty bar and waited for ten o’clock to roll around so he could go to get her.
Arriving in a matter of minutes, I parked in my usual spot right beside the door and used my key to get inside.
“Pop!” I bellowed from the entrance of the empty bar.
Pop didn’t answer.
“Pop!” I called loudly. “Are you in here?”
The pub was empty, the lights were on and the jukebox was playing, but the only person in the entire place was obviously me.
Because had he been here, my pop would’ve answered with his usual bellow.
But when none was forthcoming, I headed out the back entrance to check to see if his car was here, and frowned when I saw that it was.
Maybe he was in the walk-in freezer.
But when I didn’t see him in there, either, I started to worry.
Pulling my cell phone out of my pocket, I dialed his number and waited.
Dread slithered through me as I heard his phone going off on the bar.
He would’ve never left that here.
Not when Grams might call him early, because she did that sometimes. When her arthritis would start acting up, and she’d need to leave because she just couldn’t hack sitting up anymore.