Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105370 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105370 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
“Really, Dove. You just had to poke the bear.”
“What?” I turn to face Killian, who shakes his head.
Figuring we’re all in one car, I turn to face Kingston, leaning my back against the door. “What did I do wrong?”
“What gave you the impression that you did anything wrong?” he answers, but his voice is detached. Distant.
“Well, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you yelled at me from across the damn field.”
He laughs sarcastically. “Because I yelled at you?” He takes his eyes off the road for a second to pin me with a stare. “If that’s what has you shaken up, then you’re weaker than I thought.”
I grit my teeth and remain quiet the whole way home. I realize the longer I’m with them, the more comfortable I get to speak my mind. It’s like the longer I’m here, the more I forget everything that they have put me through to this point.
King opens the glove compartment and grabs out an envelope. He points to it. “That’s yours. Everything that’s inside is yours. Use it as you need.”
I open the envelope and a single black card drops onto my lap. “Why?”
“Because you’re one of us,” Keaton adds.
I flick the black card between my fingers, thinking of what to do.
“Press check account for your pay, or savings for the trust account. They’re linked.”
I want to fight it. I want to know why he’s flipped all of a sudden, and he’s not as mad at me as everyone thought back at the lake, but I leave it. Because I’ll choose my fights with King, and I don’t think this is one to exert energy on right now. At least for now.
We pull back into the compound, and I take a few seconds to climb out of the truck. Everyone leaves, and it’s just Killian and I inside. I turn around to face him. “For some reason, I trust you.”
Killian freezes. “Well, don’t.”
“Why do you say that?” I ask, genuinely wanting to know.
“Because as much as I like you, Little Bird, The Brothers are my family. This family is deeper than your mind could even imagine. There are secrets and bonds and all kinds of crazy ass shit that you can never know. That’s why you shouldn’t trust me. Because if I was ordered to put a bullet between your eyes, I wouldn’t flinch when doing it. I may be nice to you, Little Bird, but don’t mistake it for loyalty. Someone like me, like them, we can never be happy with a girl because of it.” He climbs out of the truck, slamming the door in his retreat.
I remain seated. Frustrated and angry, and most of all, lost. I feel lost. Like I don’t know who I am anymore or even where I fit in. I’m not delusional enough to think that with The Brothers of Kiznitch is where I would fit in, but I thought I trusted Kill.
Pushing open the door, I drop to the ground just as Delila comes heading straight for me.
“Little Bird. Where have you been? Come, I have something I want to show you.”
I close the door and do as she says. Delila is probably a lot of things—judging by what Beat has said also—but as far as I stand, she’s not threatened my life yet, so that’s saying something.
I follow her to the tent and inside. She waves her hand toward the stage. “You will have your own act.”
My palms sweat, and I rub them down my thighs. “Dancing?”
She nods, her black bob bouncing with the movement. “Yes. I’ll leave it up to you. Different dances would be preferred, but it’s up to you. You get five minutes. You may use any of the props. There’s a pole there, too, if you need it.”
I tilt my head. “You do know that pole fitness is a sport, right? Not just for stripping.”
Delila exhales. “Yes, Dove, and I’m hoping that you use it. Practice some today, and we will have you ready for tomorrow night.” She disappears down one of the aisles. I’d be happy to actually have my own act. I know I’d have to still take part in at least King’s act, too, and the final one, but to have my own gives me a sense of individuality and makes me feel as though I have some sort of purpose here. Something that doesn’t involve The Brothers.
In record time, I run back to the RV to change. I pause when I find shopping bags lined out on my bed. I take a peek inside one and find they’re all filled with new clothes. Shrugging, I slip into some tight Nike shorts and a sports bra, throwing over a Valentino crop jersey. Grabbing some leg warmers, I quickly run my brush through my hair and make my way back to the tent. I don’t want to see any of The Brothers right now, and especially not King. One second he’s kissing me, and then the next, he’s yelling at me, and then he’s telling me he hates me and that I took something from him. There has been no bigger mind fuck than being on the receiving end of Kingston Axton’s attention. I’m not sure I want it.