Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 133511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
“She ever going back to Vancouver?” Duck asked. Pic shrugged.
“Dunno,” he admitted. “She says she is, but all of her classes are online this semester. I think there’s shit going on she hasn’t told me about but I’m not gonna push her. She’s been stoppin’ by to see that cowboy a lot—the one the bull tried to kill.”
“What’s the story there?” I asked. “She into him or something?”
“Hell if I know. Doubt even she does. Whatever. At least the guy’s still alive. Now, if you don’t mind, I want out. Loni made dumplings, and if they’re cold by the time I get home I’m shooting one of you. I’ll let you decide who.”
Duck snorted, and that was that.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ONE MONTH LATER
PAINTER: Wanna meet for dinner?
MEL: Sure
PAINTER: My place—I’ll buy if you’ll cook
MEL: So you don’t want to meet for dinner so much as have me cook for you
PAINTER: No—I want to fuck you, too. See? I’m about a lot more than eating
MEL: Complicated guy!
PAINTER: Damned straight. see you at my place
MELANIE
“Painter has never dated anyone longer than a week, let alone a month,” Em said in my ear. I was standing outside his apartment, holding the phone cradled against my shoulder while digging through my purse for the key. “I think he’s really serious about you.”
“He acts serious,” I said. “He even says he loves me, but aside from that one time he’s never mentioned anything about me being his old lady or anything. And he doesn’t tell me where he’s going when he takes off on trips, just says it’s club business, like I should know what that means already.”
My fingers found something solid and pointy. Ha! I pulled my keychain out triumphantly.
“I keep forgetting how much you don’t know about club life,” Em replied, sighing. “They don’t talk about their business. Ever. It’s just the way it is, not something personal that has to do with you.”
“Never?” I asked, finding that hard to believe. “But what about you and Hunter? Do you seriously mean to tell me that he’s gone all the time and you have no idea where?”
“This is . . . a sticky thing,” she said slowly. “Let’s talk hypothetically. Women aren’t supposed to know this stuff. We’re supposed to be good old ladies and support our men and just trust that they know what they’re doing and that they have our best interests at heart. In reality, I think a lot of guys talk to their women—pretty sure my mom was in on most of the club’s business, although I don’t know about Loni. How much they share depends on the relationship and how involved she is with club life. Consider this, though—do you really want to be in a position where you’d have to testify against Painter?”
“Damn. Never thought of that.”
Clearly I’d never thought of a lot of things. Opening the door, I walked through the studio to the stairs leading upward.
“Well, keep it in mind,” she said. “Unless you’re married, they can compel your testimony. You could lie to protect him—and that’s expected of an old lady, by the way—but isn’t it better if you truly don’t know anything? That way they can’t trick you into giving him away.”
“Does it ever bother you?”
She laughed.
“Narrow it down for me—does what bother me?”
“The fact that you might have to lie to protect Hunter?”
“No,” she said, her voice matter-of-fact. “I’m sure it helps that I grew up in this life, but I trust that whatever Hunter does, he has a good reason for doing it. I’ve learned to trust his brothers, too, which means that when he gets a call in the night from one of them, I know it’s important. But me knowing all the details can only hurt him, and I want him safe. See how it works?”
“I trust Painter,” I said slowly. “But I’m not sure I trust his club. I’m sorry—I know we’re talking about your dad’s world here, but this is really strange to me. I keep feeling like I have to turn off a chunk of my brain to be with Painter.”
“You don’t have to turn off your brain. You just need to learn what’s actually important and how to tune out the things that aren’t.”
“Wait—you can’t tell me that your man disappearing in the night and not calling for days isn’t important.”
“Of course it’s important,” she said with a laugh. “When Hunter takes off, I worry about him. I think about him and I miss him. What I don’t do is spend too much time trying to figure out what he’s up to, because nothing good can come of it. Instead I put my energy into the things that matter. My job. Taking care of business around home. People always talk about how guys in clubs are controlling, but I pay all the bills and run our money. He doesn’t have time.”