Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Axle is behind us, keeping a lot of space between us so he has a better visual of anything obstructing the roads.
“If it hasn’t been cleaned up yet, it’s because Halo got hit harder and it’ll take priority,” I murmur absently, lips pursing.
I prop my feet up on the dash as I lean back my seat. We’re having to drive slow because of all the debris scattered around.
“Must have been a bitch of a twister,” he says as he lifts his phone to his ear.
Maya grumbles something about him being too loud.
Drake ignores her as he talks into the phone. “Eve, leave the hospital at some point and check your damn messages.”
He hangs up, rolling his eyes.
“She can’t have her phone on inside that room,” he gripes. “She used to be my friend more than Dash’s, but now I think she’s more his friend than mine.”
“Maybe you should have gotten shot,” Maya fires back, groaning as she turns over on the seat.
“I wouldn’t mind seeing that myself,” I quip with a cheery smile as I bat my lashes over at him.
“I need better friends,” Drake states matter-of-factly.
I’m not sure why I smile. I suppose you’re automatically friends when you survive a shootout in a warehouse full of mafia goons together.
“Well, Halo is definitely trashed,” I say as we come through the carnage that has been raked to the sides of the streets.
Rush leads us through the downed powerlines and the mostly powerless city, as people sit outside and fan themselves. It’s a box-fan-in-the-window sort of crisis, judging by all the apartment buildings doing just that.
He stops outside the hangar, and Drake pulls up at his shop across the street.
Axle parks just outside the hangar, and Rush hops off his bike, heading toward the front door.
I watch, because I’m somewhat surprisingly annoyed that after all my stupid, drunken confessions, he’s all of the sudden…no longer all over me.
At my huff, Maya pokes her head up beside me. “Problem?”
“Men,” I mutter as I hop out, slamming the door behind me.
“You girls chill with Drake for a bit,” Axle says as he walks over, blocking my path as he looks in on Maya. “We’ve got some club business to handle, and some of the out-of-towners are here. It’ll be best if I don’t have to hurt someone today.”
Maya glances down her body. “I look like I’m homeless. Surely they aren’t that hard-up for female companionship,” she states dryly, eyes swinging back up to meet his as she arches an eyebrow.
“Not worth the risk. Trust me, especially with this lot,” Drake groans as he hops out as well, heading inside.
“You could go shopping,” Axle suggests.
Maya’s eyebrows almost hit her hairline.
“Why the hell would I go shopping looking like this?” she asks incredulously.
“Since when are you so concerned with how you look in public?” he fires back with notable condescension.
Her brow creases in confusion this time.
“Or I could get a new tattoo while we’re waiting,” she suggests.
He shrugs a shoulder. “Not in Drake’s shop. Head over to that butterfly place you keep talking about. Get one there. Drake touches you again, and I’m going to have to remove his money-makers.”
He slaps the side of the SUV, and I lean against it.
“Take her with you,” he calls over his shoulder, weirdly not speaking my name…
“All that seem as suspicious to you as it did to me?” I ask Maya, staring over at the clubhouse as he averts the front door and moves around the side.
Rush has already disappeared inside.
“Axle’s not really a subtle sort of guy, and it’s very obvious when he tries to be,” she murmurs, her own eyes following him as he ducks into an alley next to the oversized building.
“Rush will hardly let me pee out of his line of view unless he’s planning on killing people,” I go on, the words barely a whisper as dread begins inching up my spine.
My eyes dart up to some of the powerlines broken and dangling around here, and a disturbing thought occurs to me.
“Let’s head inside for now,” I tell her, grabbing her hand and dragging her into Drake’s.
The second we’re behind closed and locked doors, I grab Maya by both her shoulders.
“My facial recognition software has been disabled by the storm last night,” she says very quietly, eyes slanting toward the door. “The guys picked up on that first, didn’t they?”
Drake sighs long and hard before dropping to a chair.
“That’s it. I’m moving my shop to another town,” he states with all seriousness. “Fuck this racket.”
A distinct round of clicks has us all jerking our attention to the back, and Drake sucks in a breath of surprise. I slowly shut my eyes after spotting four guns trained on us.
My jaw tenses as Maya’s fingers lace with mine, squeezing my hand.
“Don’t worry, Drake. I still appreciate a good artist, so you don’t have to die today,” a man states.