Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 117379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
They stayed silent behind me. I wasn’t stupid—the timing wasn’t perfect. A smarter man wouldn’t have pushed, but if Pic planned to do it, he might as well get it over with. We needed to get out from under this shadow or it would eat us alive.
“I should shoot you,” Pic said slowly. “Because you know what? I think you’re gonna hurt her. You won’t mean to do it, but it’ll happen and then I’ll have to pick up the pieces.”
That wasn’t promising. I braced myself, waiting for a bullet. Would he do it fast, or drag it out?
“Turn around.”
I swiveled to find him closing in on me, fists clenched. I tried to force myself to relax as the first punch caught my face, to roll with it. Pain exploded through me, radiating out from my cheekbone. A second hit came from another direction, and I realized Ruger had joined in on the action.
Just what I needed …
I lost all sense of time after that. At some point I fell to the ground, which made it easier for them to kick me. I handled it pretty well, I think, considering my entire body had turned into one great raging wave of agonized torture. I managed not to scream, although I couldn’t stop myself from moaning when someone got in a particularly good shot. By this point I hurt so much I figured it couldn’t get much worse.
Then I felt a rib snap …
It was worse. Motherfucker.
“Enough,” I heard Hayes say, his voice sounding distant. Someone rolled me onto my back, and I squinted against the bright lights on the ceiling. Then a face looked down into mine.
My least favorite face on earth. Fucking Painter.
He was saying something, but I couldn’t quite make it out through the ringing in my ears. I shook my head, focusing my eyes on his lips. He said it again.
“Can I take his cut?”
Jesus fucking Christ.
Did this man not learn? I rolled to the side, pushing up slowly with my arms until I was on my knees. I took a few seconds to recover, vaguely aware that more men had filtered into the room. They were talking but I couldn’t quite make out the words.
I pushed to my feet—swaying—every breath a slice of hell as my broken ribs shifted and grated in my chest. Painter stood right in front of me, smirking like a playground bully. I spat out a tooth and offered him a hate-filled smile.
Then I grabbed his shoulders and slammed my forehead into his nose.
He dropped like a stone, blood flowing freely. I swayed again, stepping back. It took everything I had to stay on my feet, although the beating I’d just had gave me a bit of an advantage. I already hurt so damned much that the pain in my forehead blended right in.
I took a deep breath and answered Painter’s question.
“I already told you. You’ll take my fucking cut off my dead body and you’ll leave my woman alone. Fuck with me again and I’ll put you in the ground.”
I staggered back, raising my head to find Picnic.
“We done here?” I asked, reaching up to test my ribs cautiously. Jesus, the pain was incredible. “Because this is your last shot. Kill me now or leave us alone.”
“We’ll put you and Em in a room upstairs,” Pic said, his face grim. “I don’t like it, but I’ll accept it. I can respect a man who’ll fight for my girl.”
He glanced down at Painter one more time, then turned and walked out of the room. I staggered after him, hoping to hell someone in this place had some fucking Vicodin.
“So what story do you want to tell Em?” Hayes asked as we walked slowly down the hallway. He didn’t push me, which I appreciated. Just staying upright was a goddamned miracle at this point.
“No story,” I said. “My balls are the one place that hasn’t been kicked tonight, and I’d like to keep it that way. I’ll tell her it’s business, so we can’t talk about it.”
“You’ve never been in a real relationship before, have you?” he asked. I shook my head. We stopped in front of the steps and I looked up. Fuck. I didn’t want to climb those.
“How did you know?” I asked him, pausing to catch my breath. He gave a sharp laugh.
“You’ll find out.”
EM
It was after two in the morning when Dad walked into the darkened kitchen. I’d been getting more and more nervous about Hunter’s safety, especially when I’d seen several of the guys going back and forth to the basement.
I wasn’t an idiot.
I knew what was down there—hell, Kit and I practically grew up in this building. There weren’t a lot of secrets left, although I’m sure my father was clueless about how much we’d seen and heard over the years.