Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 164459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 822(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 822(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
But that ache doesn’t mean shit when I finally have full access, lift up the skirt, and see that large bruise on the inside of her thigh.
For a moment, I don’t even know how to react. The bruise is huge—way too big and ugly to match a girl as beautiful as her. It’s worse than the bruises and scars I get after fights—worse than the ones I dish out.
I can feel my heart beating like hell, my palms growing clammy, and my throat thickening with unwanted emotion, but I can’t get any fucking words out. All I can do is look at her—up at my Jenny and see all the pain that I fucking feel.
I’ve seen this look before.
More than once.
Over and over and over again. All I can think about it Mom… how she cowered. How she hid her marks. How she lied.
“I hit it last night leaving the fight,” she musters.
“No you didn’t. Don’t fucking lie to me.”
“I did!” she wails.
“No you didn’t, Jenny!” My voice is deep and harsh and for a split second I’ve scared my damn self.
“I’m… I’m sorry, Drake. You weren’t supposed to see. I didn’t want you to worry. I’m sorry.”
Her tears are much heavier now. She’s a blubbering fucking mess. She picks up her hands and drops her face into them, as if it will rid her of the tears.
She’s sorry? She’s sorry! How the fuck can she be sorry for this—for getting abused by a no-good, punk-ass little bitch like him?
It’s not her fault. I know it isn’t. I have never thought about striking a woman in my life. That’s a cowardly move. A bitch move.
To know someone did this to her sets my blood on fire.
I hear my pulse in my ears and dangerous words chanting in my brain. My bloodstream seems to be filled with hate that is deadly and toxic, and the devil on my shoulder continues to whisper one thing in my ear.
The only thing I want to hear:
Go kill that son of a bitch.
I stand up straight and storm for the door, yanking it open and hearing it bang against the wall.
“Wait—Drake!” Jenny calls after me, but I’m already halfway down the hallway. Preach catches up to me, putting a hand on my chest as he rounds me.
“Doom, what the hell happened? Where you going?”
“Preach,” I seethe. “Right now is the wrong fucking time to be my bodyguard.” He’s still confused. I don’t give him much of an explanation. I rush around him, jamming my finger on the elevator’s down button. It’s taking way too fucking long, so I rush towards the stairs.
Only, I don’t make it there because someone catches my arm and spins me around. Wet brown eyes lock on mine and Jenny tries her damn hardest to drag me back while also trying to adjust her shirt.
I pull my elbow away from her.
“Drake, you can’t do this. Please,” she begs.
“Why the hell not, Jenny? He fucking hurt you! He left a mark on you! I know that son-of-a-bitch is here and I’m going to fucking handle it. My way! I will tear this city apart just to find him!”
“Your way is the wrong way, Drake! You can’t. We’re not in high school anymore. You can’t do whatever you want. Shane is—he’s not stupid. If he sees you, all he’ll see is Doomsday and he will file charges. He will have you sent to jail and he will also sue you!”
“Does it look like I give a shit about any of that?” I wrap my hand around the back of her neck and reel her in so close we are nearly nose-to-nose. She looks up at me with those big brown eyes, and it’s now that I realize she is shaking. I tilt my head back. “Are you scared of him?”
She shakes her head.
“Then why are you shaking? What are you afraid of?”
“I’m afraid of what you’ll do to him, Drake. I’m afraid of you ruining your life over something you had no control over.”
I watch her eyes, how desperate they are. She’s not trying to save him. She’s trying to save me. Well, it’s too fucking late.
“Jenny, look at me,” I order when she shuts her eyes. She opens them right back up and they are glistening. “I don’t care what happens to me. I can get out of it if I want to. He put his hands on you in the wrong way. He hurt the woman I love. He has fucking damaged you, and here I was thinking that I cut you so deep that you were ruined. If you think for a second that I will let that motherfucker leave Vegas without so much as an ass beating from me, you have me completely fucked up.”
“Drake, no,” she whimpers. “Please.”
“How long has he been hurting you?”