Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
“Fuck,” I growl, grabbing my keys from the table beside the door. “I’m leaving now. I’ll call the editor.”
The door shuts on whatever Bella is saying, and I run to my car. My temper boils as I toss the car in reverse and rev out of the driveway.
“They can’t print this shit and get away with it. It’s slander. I’ll fucking bury that paper,” I tell Rye while driving toward my house to grab some clothes and make some calls. I’ll have this sorted before Allie even gets ready. I’ll demand they retract the story.
“They have two sources, Wren. They say one is from inside the family. With two trusted sources, they can and will publish it. But you can still fuck them up. You’re a Prize, after all. A few phone calls will squash it. But they’re going to need to print a new story to kill the buzz this has created already. People are hitting up social network boards like crazy, and Allie is essentially getting a scarlet letter tattoo in their eyes.”
Damn it.
“I’ll give them a fucking story. Billy and Erica—that’s their two sources. They’ll fucking regret this shit.”
“Where are you going?” he asks, but I’ve already veered from the path I was on. Billy’s will be my first stop.
“I’ll call you back.”
“Don’t do it, Wren. You’ll kill him. You’re too pissed right now, and Billy can’t fight a goldfish. He has no idea how to throw a punch.”
I turn again, taking Billy’s road that isn’t too far from Rye’s subdivision.
“He’d better learn fast.”
I hang up before he can argue, and I squeal to a halt in front of Billy’s house. I don’t even bother knocking since I know all his codes to all his houses. I key in the entry number, and the door swings open, slamming hard against the wall. It takes even less time to disarm the alarm.
The door must have woken him up, because my brother staggers into the room in nothing but his boxers.
“The fuck, Wren?”
His face appears to be healed. Good. It makes this a hell of a lot easier to do, since he looks like he can take a punch.
I slam my fist into his face before he can process what’s going on, and he staggers backwards as blood spews from his already broken nose.
“You stupid son of a bitch! What the fuck?!”
He puts the sofa between us, and I leap over it, going after him again.
“Damn it, Wren,” he says while running through his house, trying to put rooms between us, but none of them have doors. I bet he regrets that decision now. “Tell me what the fuck is going on! I haven’t seen or spoken to Allie.”
My fists clench as I stalk through the house, hunting him as he heads toward the back sunroom.
“No, you just send in the fucking vultures! What the hell were you thinking? Is it that important for you to lash out at me? Come after me, you stupid bastard. Not her!”
He looks genuinely confused, and that’s the only thing that stops me from lunging at him when he finally runs out of room to run.
“I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about, Wren. What vultures?”
Billy is a lot of things, but he’s not a good liar. In fact, he sucks at it. He looks genuinely confused and frustrated right now, which makes me slow down and question things.
“The paper has two sources about Allie, and they made up a bunch of lies. One is from within the family. You’re the only one who would lash out, Billy. It’s always you trying to hurt me.”
His eyes widen. “Yeah. I want to hurt you, fucker, not Allie. I wouldn’t go after her. If I wanted to give them a story, I’d give them your story. I’ve ignored their phone calls because I didn’t want your big jerk moment to get printed. Angel would have seen it, and people would have been hounding Allie for a comment. It would have hurt both of them. Believe or not, I really don’t want my niece getting hurt. I’d actually like to get to know her, but I’ve been letting shit cool down between us since our last run-in. I didn’t even go to Aspen because I didn’t want her to see me with a busted up face and have to tell her why I looked like I did.”
I take a step back, trying to digest his words. Billy does hate me. He does try to ruin me. The only reason I believe him right now is because this story was more focused toward Allie—not me, according to Rye.
“Who the fuck else would be in our family that would do this?” I ask, more to myself than him.
But it hits us both at the same exact time, and in unison we both growl, “Keith.”