Calamity: Sleepless Spades MC Book 4 by Riker Nikki

Author:Riker, Nikki
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-02-13T16:00:00+00:00

11

Penelope

Someone must have moved me during the night because when I wake, I find myself sprawled as always on Calamity's bed.

My fingers grope automatically toward his side of the bed, disappointed when I find it empty.

"Stupid," I mutter.

He doesn't stay with me most mornings. He's gone before dawn and doesn't return until sundown. I'm not sure who he's off terrorizing at the moment, but I should probably just be grateful that it's not me. Instead, I'm blinking back traitorous tears.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed, determined to get out of here. The last attempt to help the working girls around here went disastrously, but if I keep my head down, maybe this time it'll be different. Some girls I spoke to were interested in getting a GED. I must be sneaky to educate them right under the pimps' noses, but I'm confident I can do it. And it has the bonus of keeping me busy and out of the clubhouse frequently. If I can somehow get Kylie off my back and replace her with a more tolerant overseer, then I'm golden.

My foot knocks something semi-solid, and I freeze. What the hell was that? I peek down cautiously, half-expecting a horse's head or something equally awful. Instead, I find one of those reusable grocery bags at my feet, with fabric spilling out the top. Brow furrowing in confusion, I hoist it onto my lap. A familiar pair of dark wash jeans lay on top, and when I rifle through the rest, I find my blouse beneath it, and my club jacket folded at the very bottom.

My clothes. He gave me back my clothes. I have to blink hard and struggle against the tears that haze my vision. This feels like a gesture. I'm not sure if it's a hand of friendship or Calamity flipping me the middle finger, but whatever the intended message, I'm still fucking grateful. My eyes rove the bed again, and I spy a scrap of paper on the pillow, blocky male script squeezing the margins so it's almost hard to read. It's weighed down at one corner by a dark oval stone. My worry stone. I pluck up both and squeeze them tight in my hands.

Freak storms are coming, and the weather may dip below zero. Don't freeze your damn fine ass off trying to be contrary, Penelope. We'll talk tonight.

-C

We'll talk tonight. Well, that sounds ominous. No conversation that starts with those words ever ends well. I recall prefacing my last three breakups with those words. My lips purse, and I roll my eyes at the thrill of nervousness that runs through me at the thought. It's not a breakup. There's nothing between Calamity and me to break. We don't have a relationship. We've just been aggressively hate-fucking each other in some form or another for a month.

But he left me a note, and he returned my clothes. It's these sorts of mixed signals that really fuck with my head. I like my monsters to be monstrous.

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