Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
I tilt my head up, closing my eyes when his fingers brush under my chin. His attention is gone the second the sound of the snap locking into place fills my ears.
"I'm gonna climb on first to stabilize the bike, and then you climb on behind me. Be careful not to touch the exhaust. It'll burn you," he says, urging me to walk closer to the machine. "You can hold on to me, or you can shift your hands back once you're on and hold on to the back of your seat."
I watch as he climbs on the bike, waiting for him to hold his hand out to urge me to join him. I don't take his hand, but I am cautious of the exhaust as I climb on.
"I'll go slow," he says as I get situated and grab the seat rest behind me. It's an awkward way to sit, but I feel like it's a lot less awkward than it would be to wrap my arms around this man. "Ready?"
I nod, hitting him in the back of the head with the helmet.
"Sorry," I say, feeling terrible. It had to have hurt.
The bike rumbles to life, the vibration of it under me calming more than the deep breaths did. It's as if the pulse of it somehow invades every single inch inside me, forcing all the bad out.
"We're going," he says, and a second later I watch as he looks over his shoulder, checking traffic before pulling away.
No one questioned him. No one offered an alternative suggestion for what he should do.
They have full trust that he's making the right decisions right now, and that builds my confidence in him as well.
I don't know what his position is with Cerberus, but he was in my interview, and I think that says a lot about where he stands with the club.
I have felt a lot of fear in my life, but as the tires roll on the pavement, my worries seem to fade away. I can no longer hear the song playing over in my head with the way the wind swirls around the helmet.
I feel free for the first time in a long time, but I know that freedom will end the second he powers down the motorcycle and expects me to get off.
Chapter 21
Nyx
I can still hear her whisper of thanks echoing in my head. She looked embarrassed about what happened, and although I wanted to grill her about it, I didn't ask questions.
I didn't want to re-trigger her or cause her any more fear.
I convinced myself that the pink in her cheeks was from the bike ride, but I knew better. She dipped her eyes to avoid looking at me, and I know she has to have done the same thing a million times when avoiding being hurt by her ex-husband.
I bet that motherfucker loved a submissive woman and saw direct eye contact as disrespect. She probably wasn't high enough on his list of importance to have the right.
It wasn't my place to curl a finger under her chin and ask her to look directly at me, and I'd never cross a boundary like that. Mostly because it feels gross to control someone like that, but also because I would never know if she looked up because she wanted to or if she was only doing it to avoid some sort of reaction from me.
I called to report the situation back to Kincaid, using the opportunity to ask if I could stay on duty. He said he can't control what I do, but I can't be there under official command. He also said that if I didn't come back for a minimum of six hours of respite, he wouldn't put me back on duty until I did.
I waited outside Juniper House for over an hour, making sure she wasn't going to leave and go home, before I cranked my bike and headed back to the clubhouse.
I slide my helmet off, wondering if I'm imagining it or if I can actually smell the sweet scent of her hair still trapped inside of it. I don't go so far as to lift the thing to my nose, but the urge doesn't leave as quickly as it should.
I head inside and walk directly to the conference room.
Max is the only one inside.
"Any updates?" I ask, wanting someone to see me so my six-hour clock starts.
"Whitmore is still being monitored. Nothing of note has happened. The man has to have a frequent flier punch card for how many escorts show up at his condo, though."
I scrunch my nose.
"I know," Max says. "Pretty gross."
"Any of them leave with signs of injuries?"
Max shakes his head. "No. I accessed their scheduling app. Crazy that they're operating illegally yet still using an app that can be hacked. Case notes say he's a lazy lover, has a little dick, and is bossier than some of the girls would like, but no reports of physical or sexual abuse toward any of them."