Free One Hundred & Thirty-Six Scars (The Devil's Own, #1) by Amo Jones

Phoebe said, narrowing her stare on Melissa. “As I was saying, my family are a little… different.”
    “They’re in a motorcycle club, yeah?”
    She nodded her head. “Yes, they are. They’re a little rough around the edges, and may hit on you here and there. I’ll stop that the best I can, though.”
    “It’s okay. I know all about pushy men. I’ll be fine. I’m coming.”
    Her eyes faltered, her mouth opening for a split second like she was pondering on whether she should ask me to enlighten her about that statement, but in true Phoebe fashion, she didn’t dig. It was exactly why I felt so comfortable with her and why when I did finally feel like opening my clam shell, she would be the first person to see my stained pearls.
    “All right! Let’s go.”

 
    It took us forty-four hours to get to Westbeach. I was a little on the cranky side because I’d never been a fan of traveling, but I was glad that we were finally there nonetheless.
    “Wake up, bitches! We’re here!” Phoebe beamed from the driver’s seat.
    Both Melissa and I tried to take turns with driving, but she had nothing of it. The girl actually loved being behind the wheel far too much.
    “We just need to stop off at Sinsation and then we can head to my house.”
    “You have a house here?” I asked, glancing out the windows, watching all the street lights passing us by.
    “I did as a child. Where do you think I kept all my cars,” she answered with a small smirk.
    “I guess I never thought of that,” I answered, running my hands through my hair. Phoebe was a car fanatic. One would think coming from an MC family she’d share the same passion for bikes, but that wasn’t the case here. She had a collection of cars that she boasted about on a daily basis, her eyes flashing with passion and love. I hoped that one day she could mix her career with her passion.
    We pulled up to a huge building. The walls were stroked in gloss black and the doors shining a bright blood red with Sinsation written in red over the top of the door.
    “What kind of bar did you say this was?” I asked, pulling my hair into a ponytail and rounding the car to make my way beside Phoebe.
    “A swingers’ bar or sex bar. I need a drink,” Melissa answered, walking toward the door.
    The initial thought that crossed my mind was… gross. The second one was that I could do with a drink. I was too tired to care if I was sitting on a seat that had previously had a bare ass pushing up against it.
    Nope, don’t go there, Meadow.
    Walking into the bar, nothing was out of the ordinary. I think my imagination had more fire. It looked like an average bar, only more discreet. There were booths that lined down the edges with the bar sitting in the middle.
    After Phoebe introduced us to her friend Jimmy, who worked behind the bar, I ordered a drink, taking long sips and enjoying the fire that set aflame in my throat.
    My eyes began scanning the room nervously. I guess it was a habit. I tended to place men in a basket by their looks. I couldn’t help it. Running my eyes along, I began my judgments.
    Stay away from him
    He could be okay
    Nope. Pervert.
    “Meadow? You okay, babe?” Phoebe asked, holding her drink in her hand.
    “Yeah, I’m fine,” I answered her, because truthfully—I was okay.
    “It’s okay, Meads. You’re safe in Westbeach. Trust me. My family own this town. Okay?”
    I nodded my head, my shoulders relaxing an inch. “I trust you, Phoebe. You’re the only person I do trust.”
    This was true, I trusted her with my life. Not only was Phoebe Rendon one hell of a beautiful woman, but she was loyal, kindhearted and loving. I couldn’t imagine my life without her in it.
    “Thank you, I love that you trust me,” she answered, her eyes glassing over.
    One of these days I would open up to her. Each and every day I inched closer to telling her what my life was like. I knew in my mind that if anyone was to understand, it would be her. Not because she’d