Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
My tattoo stings in time with my pounding war-drum heartbeat.
“You don’t say it,” I growl. “Ever.”
Logan’s sneer is so entitled and arrogant as he peers around his security guard. “It’s not my fault if she’s acting like a fucking pig.”
Red rage floods my vision.
The tatted security guard anticipates it and comes in with a full right hook. That’s how I know these aren’t regular security guys.
He throws it viciously, with no thought of restraining me, probably thinking he’ll put me down and then get his annoying client out of here.
I raise my hand, take the punch on my forearm, then duck back as he chucks a jab at me.
He throws a straight right, his knuckle clipping my nose, then I duck – feint. He thinks I’m going the other way.
And then my fist catches him under the chin. He grunts as he stumbles backward, but I can’t think, not as people yell around me, not as Logan keeps calling her that awful name.
The second security guard is on me, the one with the busted nose. He knows how to fight, raising his leg in a sniping front kick.
I bite down as his foot catches me in the stomach, and then I push on, raising my hands as he rains punches against my aching forearms. I weather them all, Logan still with his voice raised, whiny like a bully whose only impulse is to hurt.
My only impulse is to protect, always.
This bastard’s making a mistake.
I grab the guard and turn, throwing him at the tatted one, who’s just rising to his feet.
They collide, and then I spin back, charging Logan.
My shoulder crushes into the security guard as he’s going for his pocket, for a Taser or a gun, I don’t know. I can’t think.
My hands are on Logan, buried into his shirt as I lift him off his feet and shove him up against the wall.
I can hear people yelling, but not the words.
I know that time has slowed. It’s only been a few seconds since the fight started.
“Apologize,” I roar in Logan’s cocky face.
“I’m sorry,” he whines.
“Not. To. Me.”
Logan looks over my shoulder at where Lauren is presumably standing. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
I let him drop, finding the security guards on their feet. The one with prominent cauliflower ears – which I shoulder-barged – is holding a metal baton.
It must’ve been what he was going for in his pocket.
Beyond him, Julian’s gaping at me. Tessa’s mouth is wide open.
Lauren stands with her fists clenched at her sides, her body trembling.
“We can do this again if you want,” I tell the security guard. “But I don’t think it would be a good idea for anyone.”
They look at each other, then the tatted one sighs, giving me an angry look before he says, “We can’t leave without him.”
I step out of the way, gesturing at Logan, lying on the floor as he gasps and whines like the impotent bully he is.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
Lauren
“Just over a week,” Dad repeats when I tell him how long this has been going on.
He looks tired in his baggy shirt, the sleeves rolled up and his hair messy.
After the fight in the restaurant, we left, Dad snapping at Silas on the way out, “Meeting at our house.”
Now, we all sit around the table in the yard, the porch lights giving it a dreamy scene, totally at odds with the tension, causing my gut to tighten.
Jimmy’s upstairs, leaving me, a frowning Mom, and a shell-shocked Dad.
Silas shifts in his chair.
Dad looks sharply at him. “You called her your woman. At the restaurant. After Logan said those awful things.”
Those awful things make me remember the word he aimed at me and how I thought I would have to take it the way I had before. Bullies always go for the weakest points.
I was already feeling self-conscious in the dress, wondering if it was too tight. Silas’ gaze greatly alleviated that as he drank me in throughout the night, but when that horrible man called me a pig, I felt my confidence draining away.
That’s why part of me rejoiced when Silas rose to his feet, defended me, and called me….
“My woman,” Dad repeats. “That’s what you said.”
I can feel Silas’ tension emanating from his body, just like in our tattoo sessions.
“After a week,” Dad goes on. “I don’t get it.”
Silas leans forward. I expected him to be in some pain after the fight since he took so many shots, making me scream when I saw them knocking my man around.
But then he exploded, unstoppable, like he could’ve taken on twice their number.
“It’s like I always talked about,” Silas says slowly. “I hate that you found out like that…but it’s like I’ve always said, Julian. When I saw her, I knew.”
“But you’ve seen her before,” Mom says.
She fiddles with the silver bracelet on her wrist, looking glamorous in her gold-tinted dress. We’ve ruined her big night.