Page 65 of Sling’s Awakening

There’s something wicked in his eyes. The same kind of wickedness that was in Sling’s back in his room at the clubhouse.

I have a feeling I’m about to get my first dose of what it’s like having the Saint’s Outlaws MC in my life.

Chapter

Sixteen

BLAKE

It didn’t take long to drop Mountain off at the clubhouse and get back to our neighborhood.

Mountain tried to make small talk the entire way home, but Sling wasn’t having it, and I didn’t feel like talking either because the whole thing has me on edge.

Call me crazy, but I like having some control over my life and knowing what’s coming next. And with this, I have no fucking clue what’s happening. For all I know, I’ll wake up tomorrow and see Sling’s mugshot all over the news because he killed someone.

And to make matters worse, I need to go back to work tomorrow and deal with whatever Russ has waiting for me. I’m just waiting for the ball to drop and everything to implode in my face.

I stare at my house as Sling pulls my car into his driveway, not into mine.

I’ve never been inside his house before, and I’m not sure how I feel about now being the time he invites me over. It should be a happier occasion. Not clouded with… the shit that happened today.

Sling kills the engine and gets out of my car. I follow him, walking up the sidewalk as I wait behind him while he unlocks his door. He lets us in and turns on an overhead light that illuminates most of the living space.

My eyes squint from the blinding fluorescent light until they adjust.

Does he not have a lamp? Who actually uses the overhead lighting in their house?

Sling moves into the house, dropping my keys on the kitchen counter before he goes to the fridge.

My feet are glued to the floor as I take everything in. The layout of his house is identical to mine. Except decor wise. Sling’s place is decorated… like a man did it.

The walls are the same beige color the builders probably painted when they built it. There’s nothing on them except a TV that’s the size of a car in the living room. He has a dining room table that would easily seat six chairs, but there’s only one at it. His kitchen counters are bare, making it look as if it’s not lived in. His couch doesn’t have a single decorative pillow or throw blanket on it. I’m almost scared to see what his bedroom is like.

His place looks like a college kids bachelor pad. All he’s missing are the empty liquor bottles lining the top of the kitchen cabinets.

“Want a drink?” Sling snaps me out of my shock from taking everything in. “I have beer or whiskey.”

Beer or whiskey?

That’s it?

“Uh, no thanks. I’m good,” I tell him, not moving from the entryway. “I should probably be heading home. I have to work tomorrow, and I’d like to actually get some sleep. I feel like I’ve been awake for a week.”

Sling cracks open a beer, chugging the entire thing before tossing the can in the trash and responding, “You’re not going home tonight.”

“I’m not?” I ask, my tone taking on an edge.

He should know by now that I don’t do well with him telling me what I’m doing.

I threw him a bone tonight because he had a bad day and I felt partially responsible for it.

But now?

He can fuck right off.

“I’m fucking beat, toots. It’d be nice if I didn’t have to deal with you giving me lip tonight after just spending the day in jail.”

It’d be nice if I didn’t have to deal with you giving me lip tonight…