Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Reaching my car, I just unlock it when I hear that familiar voice whip out from behind me.
“Bonnie.”
He rarely uses my name, and when he does, it sends a course of electricity through my body. Tonight, though, it only brings on an anxiety I’m struggling to fight. Closing my eyes, I take a deep shaky breath and pretend I didn’t hear him. I slide into my car.
“Do not drive away.”
Turning my head slowly, I see him approach and stop at my open door. My bottom lip begins trembling right away—I can’t stop it, no matter what I do. My emotions are showing, loud and clear, and there isn’t a single thing I can do to make them stop.
“Please, I just want to go home,” I say, my voice shaky.
“Talk to me.”
Talk to him?
Talk to him?
He must be kidding.
“I’m going home, Western.”
“No. You’re not.”
Holding my door open, he refuses to let me close it. Desperation rushes forward in my chest, and I begin to shake, the feelings inside me exploding out.
“Fine, fine, if you won’t let me go, I’ll get a cab. Take my car. I don’t care. I’m going home.”
My words sputter out as I leap from the car, stumbling past him. He reaches for me, and as his fingers graze my arm, a loud, terrified cry leaves my lips as I jerk it away, stumbling backward so fast I fall onto my bottom. Looking up at him, I begin to scramble backward, fear gripping my chest. I’m afraid of him. I’ve never been scared of him and in this moment, I’m afraid.
He pauses, his eyes flashing.
“Bonnie.”
My name again.
“Please,” I say, tears bursting forth and rolling down my cheeks. “Let me go home.”
He thinks on my question, for just a moment, and I’m certain he’s going to let me leave but, instead, he takes a step forward.
“Stand up.”
“Western, please.”
“Stand. Up.”
Bottom lip trembling, I slowly get to my feet. My hands are shaking so badly I can no longer control them, and when Western steps closer to me, I clamp my eyes shut, trying to power down the world around me.
His hands wrap around my trembling ones, and I gasp, but keep my eyes closed. His fingers squeeze together, until my hands aren’t strong enough to keep shaking beneath his flesh. Pulling, just slightly, he forces me to take a step closer, until our hands are pressed up against his chest and I can feel his warm breath against my cheek.
“Open your eyes.”
I can’t.
I’m scared if I open my eyes, I’ll lose it completely.
“I can’t,” I whisper.
“I won’t hurt you.”
Those words penetrate my soul, and it takes everything inside me not to crumble into him. I don’t want to be afraid of Western, but what I saw today can’t be erased. He killed someone as if it were second nature, not a single flinch as he pulled that trigger. That tells me something about him, about that club, about everything I believe in. I’m out here trying to clear his name, but is he truly deserving of that?
“I saw what you did. I saw who you are.”
Pausing, he doesn’t say anything for a long moment, then slowly his hands unravel from mine and one of them slides up to grip my chin. He tips my head back and orders, “Open your eyes.”
I open them, even though the thick lump in my throat feels as though it might just choke me. I look up at the man I so eagerly trusted, a man who is more dangerous than I could have ever imagined.
“I,” he says, his voice firm and unwavering, “would never hurt you.”
My bottom lip trembles.
“I saw who you are.”
“You saw the world bein’ rid of a monster. That’s not who I am. Come with me.”
“I ...”
“Now,” he grinds out, releasing me and taking my hand, jerking me as we walk away from my car.
I don’t know where we’re going, I’m not even certain we should be leaving.
But I can’t stop myself from following.
Partially because he’s tugging my hand, but also because a little part of me wants to know what it is he is going to show me.
I’m probably walking into a trap.
But there is no turning back now.
14
“See that lady?”
We’re standing outside a quiet restaurant, the air cool around us, the night quiet and almost sleepy. There are only a few people sitting inside, and a few outside, but Western is pointing to a woman, a woman who is sitting on her own at a table outside, her fork twirling pasta but not once does she bring it to her lips. She’s staring down at the plate, her gaze not seemingly focusing on anything. It’s as if she isn’t even there.
It's as if she is just a lifeless body functioning without a soul.
“Yes,” I say, my voice shaky.
“The man you saw tonight, he took her daughter. Sold her overseas. Found out she had been killed. The police marked her as a runaway. We were helpin’ her find her daughter. We didn’t make it in time. That man was the scum of this earth.”