Dark Curves (Dangerous Curves 6)
Warren nodded at his cousin Joker, wished him dead for about the thousandth time, headed out the door of the bar.
It was freezing outside, but he had to ride his motorcycle home in the sub-zero January night, since everything was about appearances. He had to wear the cut, ride the bike, plaster on the scowl, play the part of the big, bad, one-percenter biker asshole. All day, every day. Forever. Until the day he died.
And when he considered the way that his life was headed, that day might not be so far off.
Yeah. Dead end, that’s for goddamn sure.
Bab Populer