Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 125140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Where is he? What’s taking so long? My mind goes to Chelsea’s words that he had to be pulled off that Stucco dude because he wanted to kill him. Does that mean they were in a fist fight? Maybe he’s hurt. I begin to feel my anxiety rise and I glance back over to Stucco in the corner sitting with his back to the bar. Fuck, I hate that weasel, too. I need a drink.
“I’m going to the bar, do you guys want anything?” I ask the girls.
“Can you just get me a white wine?” Angela asks.
“Me too.” The girl sitting next to her smiles. What is her name again? Damn, I have to remember this stuff. I must seem like such a bitch not remembering anyone’s name.
I head to the bar and there is a bit of a line up, so I take my place at the back of the line.
“Don’t worry about him,” I hear the girl with the dark hair whisper.
I can hear their conversation. I glance back and see Stucco and his girl sitting with their backs to me, unaware that I am here. I turn back towards the front and pretend not to listen.
“He is going to meet his maker very soon,” Stucco whispers angrily. “The mutiny is growing.”
I frown. Who are they talking about?
“Just bide your time,” she replies. “You will get your chance.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“Stop it,” she whispers.
“Next time I get him alone, I’m going to kill him. He’s dead.”
“How will you kill Mac without a weapon. It isn’t physically possible. He is a weapon in himself.”
My eyes narrow. And he will kill you first, fucker.
“How?” she asks again.
“I need a way to get back into the ammunition vault. He has the only key.”
Bloody hell, he’s serious. And there is an ammunition vault? I run my hands through my hair as I pretend to be unaffected by what I am hearing going on behind me.
“Where does he keep the key?” she asks.
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out, and when I do it’s going to be so fun watching the cunt die.”
Adrenaline starts to pump through my blood stream. It’s one thing to hit me and try and rape me amongst a group of gutless men—he had payback coming for that anyway—but to plot to kill the only person I trust on this God forsaken horror ship is a whole other level.
My blood runs cold.
You can’t kill Mac if you are already dead, motherfucker.
Maybe I need to speed up my plan?
* * *
I get the drinks and head back to the bar and take a seat at our table. I sit in silence for ten minutes as I try to process what I just heard.
Should I tell him, or is that idiot just blowing off steam?
Angela’s words come back to me. The men are all shit scared of him. They call him the enforcer. I’m pretty sure he can handle himself, but I just don’t know. I need to think on this for a while. I know he has to be careful with the keys to that ammunition vault though, so maybe I will just tell him that? Everyone seems to be here now and Angela is at the kitchen counter with her boys. I watch the three of them together. They are all looking up at the menu board and she is holding one’s hand while the other is standing behind her with his hand on her ass. They look so natural together and nobody even seems to notice them. No wonder she likes it here where she can live without judgement. What is it like to have two gorgeous men in your bed who love you? I would never in a million years have guessed that her men were crushing on each other. They are both so alpha. I glance at the doorway to see Mac walk through it wearing a black t-shirt and jeans that hug in all the right places and I feel my heart skip a beat. His freshly washed hair is hanging in curls just above his collar. He towers above everyone around him and I can see every muscle through his t-shirt. He is one mighty fine specimen. His eyes find me through the room and a smile crosses his face as he gives me a wink before he walks straight over.
“Hey, sorry I’m late.” He brushes the backs of his fingertips tenderly down my cheek. God, he smells so good. “Have you eaten?” he asks as he brushes his thumb across my bottom lip.
“No. I was waiting for you.” I smile up at him.
“Okay.” He places his hand on my shoulder as he looks up at the menu board. “What do you want?”
I screw up my face. “The chicken, maybe?”
“Yeah, okay.” He disappears to the kitchen counter to order. I stay in my seat and my eyes are stuck to him like glue. He orders our meals and then holds his hand up in a drink gesture and I shake my head and point to my full glass on the table. He nods and goes to the bar to get himself a beer. He stands for a while and talks to a group of men. I watch him as something very apparent appears that I haven’t noticed before. He’s different to the other men here. He’s quiet, reserved, and broody. It’s really hard to read what he is thinking or what emotion he is holding inside. Is that a defense mechanism he uses like I do, or is it a natural behaviour?