Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Gosh, I hope so.
“You’re doing really great,” Luna says, tossing a towel over her shoulder and taking a drink of water while we get a small break in customers because there is a show on.
“Thanks, it sure is busy.” I swipe sweat from my brow. “But it’s really fun.”
“I love it.”
“Have you been here long?”
“Six years.”
My eyes widen. “Wow, no kidding.”
“It’s a great place to work, and the boss is good. He lets me go and be with my kid during the day, and I work at night. If she’s sick, he lets me leave. He’s always got my back, and I’m appreciative of that. It’s not something that comes easily these days.”
“You have a daughter?” I smile.
“I do. She’s eight.”
“That’s beautiful.”
Should I ask her about Western? Would that be too much?
“I did hear someone in the crowd talking about the fact that Western Aiken comes in here,” I say, acting as if I overheard someone, when I really did not.
I hope it’s not too much of a stretch, because I don’t want her or anyone else to get suspicious.
“They’re always talking,” Luna says as she nods, “but it doesn’t stop him from coming in. In fact—” she glances down at her watch “—he’ll be here any minute. He’s here from ten each night until closing. He sits right there at the end of the bar, and he doesn’t speak. All this time, I’ve never heard him say a single word. He just raises his hand, and I give him a drink.”
“Not a word?” I say, brows raised.
“Not one. He pointed to the whiskey bottle his first day here, and that’s the most I’ve ever gotten out of him. That man is terrifying.”
“Do you think he really killed those people?” I ask.
Luna shrugs. “I mean, he was convicted of it, so they must have had something, right?”
Pursing my lips, I shrug. “It makes sense, it sounds good on paper, but I’ve also heard a few other rumors floating around that he was set up.”
“I’ve heard them, too. But, sometimes, rumors are just that; they’re stories people share because they’re gossips. He was found, right there with the bodies, it’s hard to say he had nothing to do with it.”
Maybe she’s right, maybe I’m being too nice.
I’m always being too nice, according to everyone that loves me.
But this one, I don’t know, I’ve just always known there was something that was missing.
I’m determined to find out.
“Speak of the devil,” Luna murmurs.
I turn in the direction of her voice, slowly pivoting, glass in my hand ready to put away. My eyes settle on the man who I’ve been somewhat fascinated with for the last ten years, and my entire world stops. The music fades out, the club seems to come to a stand still, and the deafening ring in my ears is incredibly overwhelming. I’m frozen in the spot, unable to move, my eyes fixed on the man that I’ve only ever seen photos of.
Photos when he was just a twenty-year-old kid.
Now ... he’s a man.
He looks nothing like the pictures, nothing like the images I’ve pulled together in my mind over the years.
No, this man, he looks like the devil wrapped in leather, stone cold and broken, but when his eyes fall on mine, something deep inside my soul jerks.
Gone is the lean, muscled man I spent hours studying photos of. In his place is a man so big he’s overwhelming to look at. Broad shoulders, muscled arms, a frame that has very clearly been taken care of all those years in prison, because he’s ripped, he’s all muscle and oh, he’s ... well ... he’s mesmerizing.
I can’t drag my eyes away as they roam over his face, from his thick beard to his deep brown eyes, framed in thick lashes. His face is rough, but not because of scars and broken noses, but because he looks empty. Like there isn’t a single emotion playing around his features. His hair is long, thick, dark, and pulled up into a messy knot on the top of his head. The sides are shaved away and carved out with intricate patterns, making him look that much more dangerous.
He's covered by his clothing, but oh, that clothing hugs his body like a glove. The ripped, faded blue jeans, the heavy dark boots, the tee that’s pulled tightly across his large chest, and the black leather that almost looks molded to his skin. Swallowing the thick lump in my throat, I focus on the patches sewn into the jacket, and the one that stands out the most, is the one that states PRESIDENT. He’s president of the club now?
Everyone knows the club, of course, but as far as I knew, when he went to prison his father stayed in control of it.
Has he handed it over?
Luna shoves me slightly as my eyes follow him to his seat at the end of the bar, unable to look away.