Beautiful Outlaw Read Online Free PDF Page B

country blue.  The windows are wrapped in white shutters, with small flower boxes perched on their ledges bursting with yellow and orange mums. This place isn’t just a house; it’s a home. 
    He cuts the engine off and pats my knee.  “Here’s your stop, babe.”
    I climb from the bike, having to hold on to Bowie to keep my balance.  My legs feel like jelly.  “You have a nice house.”
    He shakes his head as he climbs from the bike.  “This isn’t my place, darlin’.  It’s Nina’s house. She’s gonna be taking care of you for me.”
    “What?” I ask in shock as I stare into his blue eyes. “Jeremy said I was supposed to stay with you.”
    For some unexplainable reason, I feel safe with Bowie and I don’t want him to drop me off with someone else.  With all the stories Jeremy has shared about their time in the Army, I feel like I almost know him. Almost. I knew I wouldn’t be with him forever, but I didn’t expect him to leave me right away. 
    He shrugs and turns to the house.  As he walks away, he explains.  “Lock asked me if I had someplace safe for you to go.  Nina’s place is about as safe as you can get.”
    I follow behind him, doing my best to keep up with his long strides.  My heart is beating a fast rhythm as we walk. I fight the urge to beg him to not leave me, when I ask, “Who’s Nina?”
    “Family.” He answers simply, as he steps onto the porch. 
    Before he can lift his hand to knock, the door flies open and a beautiful, middle aged Latino woman walks out the door.   She is wearing a fuzzy pink robe and carrying a cup of coffee in one hand. “Bowie, what the world are you doing here at this time of the morning?”
    He looks over his shoulder at the still dark sky.  “It’s not morning just yet.”
    She smiles as she turns away from us to walk inside the house.  “To me it is.  I have to be at work in an hour. Some of us have real jobs, you know.”
    Bowie follows closely behind her, leaving me still standing on the porch.  I stare at the open door, not knowing what to do.  A second later, my question is answered when I hear Bowie call out my new name.  “Shay, get your ass in here.”
    Taking a deep breath for courage, I step through the door.  The inside is a lot like the outside, homey.  There is huge flower print sectional against the back corner of the living room.  Above it, pictures of children line the walls.  The two boys and one girl in the pictures hold a special place in this woman’s heart, and she wants to make sure everyone that walks through her door knows it. 
    Without thinking, I walk over and take a closer look. One of the boys is no doubt her son; I can tell just by looking that he shares her DNA.   It only takes a second to realize the other boy is Bowie.  The child in the pictures looks nothing like the tattoo covered man I just met, but there is no denying that those sparkling blue eyes are the same.   I’ve never seen anything like them.  They remind me of the summer sky, just before a storm.  A mixture of a million shades of the same hue, changing constantly. 
    “He was such a cute kid.  I’m not sure what happened to him.” Nina says, as she steps next to me and pushes a cup of coffee in my direction. 
    I turn to her, not yet meeting her eyes, and take the cup.  “Thank you.”
    “I quit hanging pictures when he started inking up his body.  I told him God gave him beautiful skin, there was no reason to cover it, but he wouldn’t listen.”
    I’m not sure what to say, because it’s rude to disagree with a person in their own home, but I think Bowie’s tattoos are beautiful in their own right.  Trying to change the subject to something else, I point to the young girl.  “Who’s that?”
    “That is my beautiful Rachel, and that one is my hijo, Justin. He’s another one that doesn’t get his picture hung.  He shares his brother’s fascination for color. Only he’s worse, ink has become an obsession to