Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 33713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 169(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 169(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
I crack the office door and spot her hunched over the desk, lips pressed tight, brows furrowed at her phone. My stomach drops.
“Is it Voss?” My jaw clenches. If that asshole is harassing her again, I’ll drive to LA right now and rip his throat out. No one messes with my woman.
Serenity glances up, surprised, then shakes her head. “No, it’s just Alana. She’s being dramatic.” She sighs and leans back. “Evidently, the RA is resisting her advances.”
Relief hits so hard it’s almost painful. I set the phone down and pull Serenity up out of the chair, wrapping my arms around her waist and holding her tight against me.
“I really don’t want to know about my sister’s love life,” I mutter against her hair, letting her scent calm the animal in my chest.
“Then don’t ask me what my messages say,” she shoots back, and I lose the fight. My lips close over hers as everything else fades away.
Fuck, she tastes so fucking good I lose all sense of time. I back her against the desk and just devour her. She melts into me, hands clinging to my shirt, her lips opening for me like a dream. I can’t get enough. If Bones doesn’t call me out, I’ll have her spread over the office desk before lunch.
Right on cue, a gravel-thick yell rips up from the garage floor. “Diesel! Get your ass down here and let Serenity do her job.”
Serenity laughs against my mouth, the sound pure fucking sunshine. “Better listen to your boss,” she whispers, blue eyes dancing.
“Pretty sure you’re the boss of me now, sweetness.” I drag her in for one more long, bruising kiss. Her cheeks are flushed, lips swollen, hair a mess. Fuck, I want to take a picture and use it as my phone wallpaper.
I give her ass a quick squeeze for luck, then stalk back downstairs. Bones is waiting, arms crossed, looking like he wants to bust my balls. “Happy now, Romeo?”
“I’d be happier if you’d mind your own damn business.” I grab the torque wrench and get back to work, but my brain is still stuck on that kiss. Every time I glance at the office window, my cock thumps in my jeans.
I’m up to my elbows in engine grease when the front bell jingles. Delivery guy, city uniform, holding a giant vase of roses and bright lilies. “I have a delivery for Serenity Kellerman.” Oh, fuck to the no. I drop my ratchet and stalk over, grease still on my hands.
“Let me see that.” The delivery guy takes one look at my face and loses all color.
“Problem?” he stammers.
“No.” My voice is pure gravel. I hand him a tip, and he bails instantly, tripping over his own feet as he sprints for the door.
I slam the roses on the counter and rip open the envelope. I know it’s him. I know it before I even read the first word.
Serenity walks up behind me, holding herself stiff, nerves radiating off her in waves. Her perfume, vanilla with a sweet edge, cuts through the chemical stench of the garage. I can feel her worry spike as I read the card aloud:
“You aren’t getting away from me, Ren. I’m patient—I always get what I want. Hope you like your surprise. See you soon.”
Motherfucker. I’m ready to find this psycho and choke the life out of him with my bare hands.
I fold the card and turn to Serenity, blocking her with my body so the whole shop can’t see her face. “I’ll take care of this. He’s never getting near you.” I keep her tucked against me, her face buried in my chest, and yank my phone out one-handed. I dial Savage. No answer. Typical. I hit redial, and this time he picks up.
“Talk to me,” he grunts, all business as always.
“Where the fuck is Voss?” I cut straight to it. I don’t have time for pleasantries. Not when Serenity is shaking in my arms.
Savage doesn’t hesitate. “Still in LA. His phone’s pinging off a tower near the Westwood campus. He used a credit card at a Taco Bell in Culver City late last night. He isn’t moving.”
I let out a slow breath, but it doesn’t calm me. Not even a little. “You got eyes on him?”
A pause. I can picture Savage in his cave of screens, chewing it over. “Not at the moment. You want me to escalate?”
“Yeah. I want you to put someone on his ass and don’t let him out of sight. If he so much as looks at the interstate, I want to know before he hits Barstow. Clear?”
“Crystal,” Savage replies. “How about if I send Elliot over to give him a little message?” That’s a great fucking idea. I’ve been playing it too nicely. It's time to show this asshole exactly who he’s messing with. And seven-foot-two, three-hundred and eighty-pound Elliot is the perfect goddamn messenger.