Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 74022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
“This is all my fault,” Saskia whispers, running her hands down her face as Mason gathers his keys quickly.
“How so? If there is somethin’ we need to know, Saskia, you need to tell us now,” Malakai says, picking up his keys and turning to face Saskia.
“She got a visit from my sister, a few days ago. She threatened her, saying that Enzo wanted money, and if they didn’t get it, they were going to come after her. She made me swear I wouldn’t say anything, she didn’t want...”
Saskia’s eyes swing to me.
She didn’t want me involved.
My chest clenches and rage bubbles in my chest. She was in danger, and because of my own stupid fuckin’ actions, she didn’t tell me.
She kept it to herself, and now she could be hurt, or worse.
“Why didn’t you say somethin’?” Mason asks, staring at his woman.
“Because, she said she wanted a few days, to figure out what to do. You have to understand it from her point of view, she was scared but she doesn’t really have anyone to turn to, that isn’t going to cause a problem for her.”
Fuck.
Fuck me.
“Talkin’ about this ain’t gettin’ us to her,” I grind out. “We need to get to her, fuckin’ now. Any idea where she is?”
Saskia shakes her head. “No, but I’m guessing at home. She worked today which means she’s probably at home because her shift would be done. We need to go there first.”
I move, out the door and to my truck. I’m not waitin’ for a single one of them. I need to get to her. And I need to make sure she’s okay. Because fuck, if it wasn’t for me, she would have told us she was in trouble. She fuckin’ promised me she’d tell me if she was in trouble and she fuckin’ didn’t. I hate myself for that. I fuckin’ hate it because once again, someone is hurt because of me.
That crushes my chest.
I drive like a fuckin’ bat out of hell to her apartment and launch out of my truck the moment it has stopped. I move quickly to her front door, turning the handle, but it’s locked. I pound on it with my fists. “Chantelle!” I bark.
No answer.
But her car is here.
I step back and with a forceful kick, I use my booted foot to slam into the door over and over. It doesn’t fuckin’ move.
“Chantelle!” I bellow.
Nothing.
“I have a key.”
I turn and see a nerdy looking young man rushing over from next door. He doesn’t seem alarmed or concerned there is a biker trying to kick her door in. She must have informed him about us.
“She’s in trouble,” I grind out, panting.
The man unlocks the door and I barrel in quickly, without looking around to see if anyone else is in here. Chantelle is on the ground, laying on her side, and there is blood covering her beautiful fuckin’ face. She’s curled up into a ball, hands covering her stomach, and she’s unconscious. I drop to my knees by her side, lifting her head carefully in my hands and calling out her name.
It takes a minute or two, but slowly her eyes flutter open, both of them red from blood and crying, and she croaks, “Boston?”
“I got you. I got you. Can you sit up?”
“Chan!”
Saskia’s voice fills the room and in a split second, she’s on her knees by my side. “Oh God,” she cries out. “Oh no.”
“Chantelle,” I say, wiping some of the blood from around her eyes. “Can you answer me, sweetheart?”
Her eyes look to mine, and she nods, “I can sit up,” she croaks.
“Saskia, get some warm water, a few cloths, a first aid kit.”
Saskia stands quickly and rushes off. I sit Chantelle up, supporting her head, my heart fuckin’ aching.
“Show me exactly where it hurts, what did they do to you?”
She groans in pain, but speaks, her voice strong. So fucking strong this girl. “It was just one. He hit me a few times, kicked my ribs, and tossed me across the room. I don’t think anything is broken, it just ... it hurts so bad.”
“I know,” I say, my voice gravelly, “And I promise you, I’ll make them fuckin’ pay. But right now, we need to know if you’re okay.”
She nods, and I get to work checking her over. Everything looks bruised, and bloody, but she doesn’t look like she has anything broken. She’s going to be sore for a while, but she’s going to be okay. Saskia returns with the items I asked her for, and I start cleaning Chantelle up, wiping her face, putting ice on her swelling, and then we get her onto the sofa with a blanket.
Only then do Malakai and Koda move forward and kneel in front of her.
“You okay to talk to us about who did this and what’s been goin’ on?” Malakai asks.