Total pages in book: 178
Estimated words: 170884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
He hesitated a second before he spoke low. “Lost her only ally.” Good. His arms tightened around me. “Breakin’ down the stronghold, piece by piece.” Then he said through a yawn, “I don’t give a fuck how long it takes. You want her gone, baby—” His voice turned drowsy. “—she’s gone.”
It was a promise. He made a vow. Everything inside me told me he would keep us safe.
And like the idiot I was, I chose to believe that.
***
Molly
The text I received made my phone feel heavier than it should have.
I had just put the little monster to bed and knew I would have to respond, one way or another.
My heart raced.
Either way, I was screwed.
If I said yes, I was back in with the person whose family destroyed me.
If I said no, he was lost to me forever.
I held the phone in my hand as I walked the hall, finding him sitting on the floor in front of Lexi as she lay down on the sofa on her stomach, watching the TV and adorably running her fingers lightly through his hair. Twitch closed his eyes, loving her attentions, and they both looked tired. I hated to interrupt, but this was important.
Clearing my throat, I waited for him to open his eyes, and when he squinted up at me, I simply jerked my chin in the direction of my room, ignoring Lexi’s sudden uneasy stare.
I walked the hall, stood in the center of my room, and waited. He followed soon after, and when his imposing figure blocked my open doorway, I blurted out, “I need you to stay here tonight.”
His brow knitted. “Why?”
It was a reasonable question. I don’t know why it pissed me off so much.
On the defensive, I said, “I have a job tonight.”
That did not go down well. “I thought you were out.”
“I am,” I revealed, “but I owe this guy.”
“No,” Twitch uttered coldly. “You said it yourself. You owe me.” He looked me up and down. “You’re not goin’ anywhere, Molly.”
Fucking bullshit. “I’m not a child,” I seethed, my eyes wide with fury. My full lips curled. “I’m not your child. You can’t tell me what to do. Besides,” I added, “I’m only asking out of respect.” I ended on, “I’m going.”
He seemed to think on that, fighting the need to say something, tapping his hands on the doorframe a long moment before he held out his hand. “Give me your phone.”
If this was the only way to get him to leave me alone, I’d deal. I unlocked the screen then handed him my phone.
He typed quickly, looking down at the screen, then muttered, “You get in trouble, you call this number. Someone will come for you.” I reached for my phone, but he held it out of reach. “I need you to remember your promise to me.” His dark stare held me in place. “You make sure you’re safe, and if you feel you’re not, you fucking call. Your life is important to me.” His words made my heart warm. But then he ruined it. “Your life is a tool. It is something I can use to keep my son safe, so make sure you come back in one piece, Molly. If you don’t—” His whiskey-smooth voice was deceptively calm. “—I will be very disappointed.”
I wanted my phone back, and he knew this because his lip twitched as I stared at the rectangular cell with a frown.
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know yet, but I’ll leave soon.”
“Got everything you need?” He was talking weapons.
I nodded. “I’m all set.”
“You need a ride?”
For fuck’s sake. “No, Dad,” I drawled, getting annoyed. “I’m taking Big Red.”
“When are you coming back?”
Oh my God. It finally clicked.
He was stalling me for some reason, but why?
I was officially pissed.
I leant in, and hissed, “Give me my phone!”
He checked the screen a moment before he handed it over, and I scrolled through my contacts, locating the number he added.
I read it out loud, “911.” I followed on a chuckle.
He did not laugh. No.
He watched me closely. “Call it if you need to. Don’t be a hero. Your life is not yours to risk, Molly.” He stepped out of my room and into the hallway. “It’s mine.”
As he walked away, my lip curled and I flipped him the bird.
The words he called back were highly amused. “Not nice.”
I sent the text.
Me: I’m in.
And then I waited.
A few moments later, I got a message back.
Tama: The warehouse. An hour.
Just like old times.
I dressed quickly in my black skinny jeans and a black spaghetti-strapped tank sans bra. It didn’t matter. I was petite as petite came. My boobs were barely existent. No one would even notice. Over the top, I wore a tight, long-sleeved, black lace number that did nothing to shield me from the cold. It was more a fashion statement. Finishing up my look, I put on my black hi-top Chucks that had definitely seen better days.