Page 88 of The Good Girl

“Fuck that. That’s my woman,” I snap. I’ll never be okay with that bullshit. “Set me up an account.”

He looks at me warily. “What are you going to do?”

“Kill you if you don’t follow my fucking orders for a start,” I snarl.

He holds his hands up in surrender. I unlock my phone and hold it out for him. It takes him a few minutes to set it up, usinga generic picture of a bike as my profile picture. Once he’s done, he shows me how to use it.

When I see the girls walking toward the table, I slide my phone back into my pocket and curse myself for not remembering to ask G about the look on his face earlier.

“Everything okay?” I ask as I stand and pull Nevaeh into my arms.

“Yeah, there was just a line. It’s not usually this busy on Wednesday.”

Taking her word for it, I ask her if she’s ready to leave. When she nods, I take her hand and lead her outside, Amity and G right behind us as we walk toward our bikes.

“Motherfucker.” I let go of Nevaeh and stomp toward my bike. Both tires have been slashed. I curse when I see how deep the slashes are. Whoever the hell did it was not taking any chances.

“G, call one of the prospects and get them to bring some tools and a couple of spare tires from the garage if we don’t have any on hand in the warehouse.”

“Who the fuck would do this?” Amity curses.

G steps closer, his phone against his ear, as he waits for the prospect to answer.

“Do you think it was someone from your old club?” Nevaeh asks.

“No, ’cause if it was, they’d’ve cut the brakes. This feels more like an annoyance than a threat.”

“I don’t like it,” G grunts, turning away when his call connects.

“I’m not exactly dancing for fucking joy,” I say sharply as Nevaeh slips her hand into mine, instantly calming me.

“Hoops is on his way with tools and the truck to take Amity and Nevaeh back to the clubhouse,” G says, wrapping his armsaround Amity from behind. “Shouldn’t take long to change the tires, but there’s no reason for them to wait around.”

“I agree.”

“I don’t mind,” Nevaeh tells me softly.

“I know you don’t, baby. But you have better things to do than stand around here watching me change tires. Didn’t you say you needed to get some writing done today?”

“But I haven’t finished procrastinating yet,” she whines, making me chuckle.

“The sooner you get started, the sooner you’ll be finished,” I say as she pouts.

“Thanks for that, Captain Obvious.”

“I have a cure for sass,” I tell her as I pull her into my arms. “It involves you on your knees and my dick in your throat.”

Her skin flushes red as she slaps my chest. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” I say with a smirk.

“Clearly, I need therapy,” she grumbles.

“Oral—”

“Finish that sentence and die.”

“Have you always been this violent?”

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