You get this drama, babe, you got until the end of Tack’s meeting to burn it out, but mark this, Lanie. After that meeting, I don’t give a fuck if you’re strapped into a rocket to go to the goddamned moon, I’m findin’ you, we’re sortin’ this shit out and we’re movin’ on,” he warned. “I just made a mental note to find a plastic surgeon who does emergency face alterations so you won’t know who to look for,” I shot back. “Jesus, I’m pissed as all fuck and still she’s cute,” he groused like he wasn’t talking to me but actually complaining to the Son of God. “Jesus works on Sunday, Hop. You want a direct line, time to haul your biker ass to church,” I shared. “You want me to let you go so you can burn this out, you better stop bein’ cute, lady. You keep bein’ cute, I’ll kiss you in the goddamn forecourt and I won’t give a fuck who sees.” I snapped my mouth shut. “That’s what I thought,” he

Kristen Ashley