Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69352 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69352 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
“Ahh, look who it is.”
The sound of his voice had me narrowing my eyes, but the absolute blankness out of the woman at my side had me terrified.
The shaking. The fear.
She was having a panic attack.
Had to be.
And she’d only started exhibiting these symptoms when she’d turned around and looked at who was behind her.
Who was now standing at the side of our table.
“Go sit down, Pennington, or you’ll be escorted back to your cell,” Rome’s deep, authoritative voice called out.
“Sorry, sorry.” Lyle held up his hands.
When they dropped back to his side, he purposefully reached out and brushed that finger down the back of Milena’s head, fingers running through her hair.
I got out of my seat so fast that Lyle took two very large steps back with his hands up.
“Whoa, accident!” He laughed. “I’m sitting…”
“You’re done, Pennington,” Rome said. “Back. Now.”
Lyle’s face went slack. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to my friend.”
“Not my concern,” Rome said.
“Is there a problem here?”
Warden Beauregard.
“No problem at all,” Lyle replied sweetly.
“Go. Now,” the warden snapped.
Lyle left with Rome to escort him.
Warden Beauregard, also known as Bayou to the outside world, took one look at me and said, “Your girl needs some help.”
I could see that.
Especially since she was all but collapsing on my body.
If I moved at all she’d fall over.
I had one hand on her head, holding her to my belly, and the other fisted at my side.
The need to murder that piece of shit was still boiling in my soul.
“I know,” I said.
“Go.” Copper looked on. “It’s okay.”
I bent down and gathered her into my arms.
Bridal style, I carried her out of the meeting room door—with everyone watching on curiously, even the fellow who’d been meeting with Lyle—and carried her to the row of chairs at the exit.
I sat down and pulled her deep into my embrace, surrounding her small body with as much of me as I could.
“Hey,” I said to her. “We’re gone. He’s gone. You’re okay.”
What in the hell could have happened?
The worst thing was, I couldn’t fuckin’ leave.
Not with her freaking out the way she was.
There was no way I could keep her on my bike and get us out of here.
“Here’s y’all’s things,” Bayou said, holding out a brown paper sack with our phones and my keys.
I gestured toward the seat next to me.
Bayou didn’t put it down.
He watched me for a few seconds before saying, “I have to go get my kids from school later. I have my wife’s Suburban. Do you want to take it to the diner?”
I glanced at him. “That would be great. You think you can get my bike down there to switch it out?”
“Sure,” he said, digging into my bag for the keys to my bike. “My keys are in the Suburban.”
I didn’t bother to ask him why they’d be sitting in there unattended.
Likely, no one had the balls to steal a prison warden’s vehicle, let alone the president of a motorcycle club.
And most everyone around the area knew who Bayou was.
Hell, I knew who Bayou was, and I lived two hours away from him.
A buzzing sound pulled my attention from my thoughts, and I reached into the paper bag to make sure it wasn’t mine, but saw Milena’s going nuts instead.
I glanced at the screen and couldn’t stop myself from reading all of her messages.
Shasha:
Swear to God, if you don’t tell me why you’re at that fucking prison right now, I’m going to burn it to the ground.
Shasha:
Answer me.
Shasha:
Seriously, Milena. Answer me.
Shasha:
I’m on my way.
Shasha:
Fuck. Please don’t go in there.
Shasha:
I’m an hour away.
Shasha:
Goddammit, Milena. Please answer me.
Shasha:
Forty-five minutes.
Shasha:
Please, please, please answer me.
The messages went on, and on, and on.
She had over a hundred messages from her brother and was getting them every minute.
Like he was texting her to keep her paying attention to him, and not the prison.
I looked back at Bayou, who nodded his head and said, “Get her out of here.”
I didn’t waste time.
I did stop and glance at Bayou as we were leaving to say, “I want to know everything that you have on Lyle Pennington.”
Bayou nodded once, and I headed to his Suburban.
The trip took a minute tops, but instead of putting her down when I got behind the wheel, I kept her in my arms for the mile it took to get me to the diner.
I pulled to a stop, turned off the vehicle, and wrapped both arms around her.
It was in that moment that I made a decision.
A stupid one? Most definitely.
A rash one? Of course.
One that I would never regret? Bingo.
Milena’s phone buzzed again, and with it, she shivered hard.
Shasha:
Please fucking call me.
Deciding he’d been worrying enough, I used my own phone to call him but used her phone to get the number from.
After I had it dialed, I hit Call, then placed her phone on the console face down.