Still Standing: Wild West MC Series by Ashley Kristen

Author:Ashley, Kristen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rock Chick Press
Published: 2021-02-02T00:00:00+00:00

17

There’s No Way Out

It was afternoon in the office the next day.

Friday.

Payday.

The first thing I did when I got to the office was log into my account online.

Promptly after, I did my first-ever, very loud whoop and holler of sheer glee when I saw I had a positive bank balance and that positive was more than a dollar and fifty-seven cents.

In concern after the big drama the day before, Raul came running.

I just gave him a homemade oatmeal and chocolate chip cookie and sent him back to the warehouse so he could load up for his job that day, assuring him all was well.

After that, I paid on all three of my credit cards and sent a check off to Raymundo for my part of Mrs. Jimenez’s rent.

I didn’t pay a lot on the credit cards because I liked the feel of having a positive bank balance, the next payday was two weeks away and my cards needed about six months of full-on payments to get under control, but at least it was something and maybe they’d call off their collectors.

With this start, I knew that day was going to be better than the day before.

This was thinking positively, of course, considering my life and the fact that anything could happen in it. But I was holding on to that with all I had.

And anyway, tonight was Buck’s enchiladas with Mrs. Jimenez, Gear, and Tatiana.

Sure, Tatiana wasn’t a bonus in that mix, but the enchiladas would make up for her not liking me.

It was now the afternoon, and there had fortunately been no dramas.

So, of course, the day took a turn.

Chap, Jimbo, and Raul were sitting on the couch in my office. Jimbo and Raul were taking a break and enjoying a fresh mug of coffee and the last of the cookies (they’d made it that long because I’d tripled the recipe, I’d learned that early). Chap was taking sips from a flask. Minnie was sitting on my desk gabbing. I was printing off invoices.

Then the door opened.

I looked up, and the room went instantly wired.

This was because Detective Rayne Scott, looking gorgeous, wearing a Henley, a sports jacket, jeans and boots, and sporting a badge and gun on his belt, walked in.

I forgot to mention.

Also that morning, I’d placed a call to the police station leaving a message for Rayne Scott.

I stared at him looking gorgeous (worth a repeat) and standing in my office.

Fantastic.

He couldn’t just phone?

“Cop,” Chap growled in a weirdly unhappy way as I felt Minnie, equally weirdly, get tense on my desk.

I kept staring at Scott and ignored their responses.

Many of the biker and biker babe responses were still a mystery to me. Though it didn’t take years living in the biker world to know bikers and cops weren’t the best of friends.

Still, Scott had just walked into a room. He didn’t do it with a SWAT team at his back, gun drawn, shouting, “Freeze!”

I pointed out the obvious, “You got my call.”

“Your call?” Minnie whispered.

“Yep,” Scott stated, walking into the room like there was nothing amiss when there was a lot amiss.

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