Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 72122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
I licked my lips and tasted copper.
“I don’t have blood all over my face, do I?” I asked him.
“Nah,” he said. “Not much, anyway.”
“You look like Carrie,” came Marnie’s weak reply. “Oh, hey! I have a sexy man at my door, too!”
I tried to turn, but Mohawk guy’s hands were suddenly on my face. “Don’t move until we know if you have a neck injury.”
“You act like you have medical knowledge or something,” I grumbled, resigning myself to the fate of having another man’s hands on me. “You’re not Truth, you know. You should probably not touch me.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Mohawk guy ignored me. “Under any other circumstances, I wouldn’t be touching you. I’m a happily married man with two children. My paramedic skills don’t just turn off, though.”
I smiled. “You don’t look like a paramedic.”
“What do I look like?”
Was he just talking to humor me?
“Like a big ol’ teddy bear,” I told him. “With a mohawk,” I felt obligated to add.
Mohawk guy laughed.
The rich sound was interrupted, though, by something I never wanted to hear again.
Truth’s bellow of anger jolted me, and I moved my eyes since Mohawk guy wouldn’t let me move my head, and nearly groaned at the panicked look in his eyes at seeing his car.
“I didn’t mean to!” I cried out. “I swear! I will fix your car!”
“I’m not sure he’s worried about the car, honey. Does your arm hurt?”
I thought about it, then decided that yes, indeed, it did hurt.
Like a mother fucker.
“Yes,” I told him. “Should it hurt?”
He didn’t reply.
Something shook the car, and I jerked, my eyes going wide as my head reminded me that it wasn’t very happy with me.
Chapter 21
Whiskey: Because who in the hell needs feelings.
-Life Lesson
Verity
“We got an anonymous tip that this was about to go down,” the large older man said as he held out a piece of paper to Truth.
Truth took it, and then turned to stare at me for long seconds before returning the paper.
“What?” I asked.
I was so intimidated.
My hospital bed was surrounded by bikers, and they were guarding me like I was something precious to them.
Something Truth informed me over an hour ago that I was—precious to him. And if I was important to him, I was protected by not just his chapter of The Dixie Wardens MC, but all of the members of The Dixie Wardens MC. All eight chapters, and two thousand three hundred and forty-five members.
Though, only a mere forty-five members were in my hospital room or outside in the hallway.
Anyone would be absolutely stupid to do anything with this many members around. And not because a lot of them were law enforcement, or had been at one point.
But because they were generally scary mother fuckers.
Even Mohawk guy was scary, though he’d introduced himself as Kettle about twenty minutes ago.
I was now sitting in my hospital bed, my face stinging, as my broken arm was being set in a hot pink cast by yet another hunky man—this one Dr. Tommy—listening to the men talk while I valiantly tried to hide the fact that I was fighting off the urge to puke from my still raging headache.
I was also trying to decide if hearing what the men had to say was worth the additional pain that concentrating on their conversation would surely bring.
“You’re fucking kidding me,” Truth growled. “You tried calling?”
The older man who’d introduced himself as Silas nodded his head. “Yeah, but your phones were off for the funeral. We’d started heading this way around eight this morning to make it in time to see you patch in your prospects later tonight and offer our condolences.”
“I guess you heard about the problems we’ve been having with Elais Beckett?” Big Papa asked from his position down by my feet. His hand was resting on my toes, and every once in a while, he’d squeeze them, then continue listening. It was an absent gesture; one I wasn’t sure if he realized he was doing or not.
But I continued to let him because it felt good. I saw Silas nod an affirmative to answer Big Papa’s question.
Truth was on my left, his hand playing up and down the length of my arm, reassuring himself that I was okay by touching me and feeling the heat of my skin.
“After you left, we got the call about the funeral and decided to head this way. A ride’s a ride,” Sebastian, Silas’ son and the vice president of the Benton Chapter, said.
I’d heard that by Truth before. Any length of a trip, as long as he got to ride there, was a good thing.
“How’d you hear that we were patching in our prospects tonight?”
Silas smiled.
“I’ve got my ways.”
That cryptic message had Big Papa sighing in annoyance, and I looked at him.
His face was haggard, and he looked like he was about to fall over on his feet.