The stroke was somehow familiar —and insistent. He came awake slowly, wincing before he even opened his eyes at the bright lights assaulting him. He groaned, and the voice of an angel broke through the nasty headache that was coming on like a sprinter towards a finish line. “What the hell were you thinking, you stupid son-of-a-bitch?” Despite the berating and judgmental words, the tone was soft and tender, and Jim’s lips tilted up at the corners. He would have recognized that angel’s voice anywhere. “I was thinking about you, actually.” His voice sounded like a steel toe boot on gravel, but at least he could form words now. “Really? And the thought of me made you so sick you had to wash it away with a gallon of liquor?” Sarcasm. It was as sweet as chocolate right now. “It wasn’t a gallon. I don’t even think I finished the bottle of whiskey.” “Oh, that’s better.
What do You think about Wreck Me: Steel Talons MC?
