I read objects. I touch a thing and I get whoever owned it — their last four minutes, their worst Tuesday, all of it.
So I wear gloves. I've worn them since I was nine.
Then I picked up a burned motel key in a dead man's storage unit, and I saw a man locked in a room that was already on fire.
The bikers who came looking for that key don't scare easy. Their VP does. Deacon Vance is all silence and scar tissue, and the second my bare hand landed on his jacket, I knew things about him nobody living knows.
He should have sent me home.
Instead he asked me to ride.
Now there's a guest book in the Nevada desert writing down names before their owners arrive — and mine is already on the page, in handwriting that died in 1981.
I had trouble reading this story. It was the subject matter not the story. I wanted to know what happened but it was not a pleasant thing to want to know. I don’t understand it all. Mostly because I did not want to. I just wanted to know it was a closed case. It was very interesting and I could not put it down. I had to get an ending.
Nice quick and thrilling read. Tge characters development is riveting. The storyline is full of drama, suspense with little side romance yet not being the focal point. Looking forward to more thrilling adventures.
The are a club of eleven brothers with gifts . But she reads objects and will work with them to solve an old mystery. Interesting take on a mc club not much of a room.