Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 126840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
And seriously, what the hell was this nonsense?
So my dad being a dick made me want to make certain I was never just making it, I was killing it? So he had a part in giving me the drive not just to look after myself, but make something of myself? Giving me the strength to be independent and content to do my own thing?
Who cared?
Finally, I had something to thank him for (not that I’d do that).
I wanted to live with Core. Wake up and go to sleep beside him. Come home and eat his cooking. Go with him to his clubhouse for a drink with his brothers and their old ladies. Watch him, chilled out and stoned, his eyes to the TV, his fingers in my hair, settled and happy.
Fuck that noise. Fuck that damage.
And fuck my dad.
I wanted all I wanted, and I was going to get it.
And I wanted Core.
I nearly started laughing.
Because I couldn’t deny it.
I wanted to be an old lady.
I was actually thrilled with the idea.
I was keen to get home then, having made the decision.
Get home and tell Core I’d made it.
Then celebrate, because Core was going to be ecstatic (and Core’s version of ecstatic made me ecstatic).
After that, talk kids, and future, and money.
And all the things.
We had time, and we’d be living together so plenty of opportunity to do it.
Honestly?
I couldn’t wait.
So I was closing down, feeling light and bubbly and excited and fluttery, and all those girlie things that I also no longer cared Core made me feel because they felt fucking great.
I had all that goodness taking my headspace when there came a knock on the doorframe.
I lifted my head, thinking it would be Yvette telling me she was leaving and I was going to be the last person in the office.
It wasn’t Yvette.
Shock pulsed through me at who I saw standing there, but with one look at her, I had the weird feeling that my world was about to fall out from under me.
“Fancy digs,” was my cousin Eleanor’s greeting.
I sat arrested in the process of sliding my laptop in my briefcase.
My cousin strutted in.
She was pretty, I’d always thought that. She got good from Dad’s side of the family, like Li and I did. She had obviously fake boobs, which normally would not cause me to jump to judgy, but the nasty look on her face and the triumph with which she wore it made me think those boobs made her look skanky.
She was younger than my mom, older than Core, dressed like Pamela Anderson in her glory days (another no-judge, except for Eleanor it wasn’t a style, it was a weapon and that wasn’t okay).
What Rush had heard all those months ago had been legit.
She’d come up to Denver. She’d scoped things out. She might have noticed we had people looking out for us and waited until the time where we didn’t so she could strike without anyone ruining her thrill.
Like she’d waited for Aayansh to leave, knowing I was mostly alone, and as such, vulnerable.
But whatever thrill she was after, she was starting with me.
I gave her a chance not to be a bitch.
I finished shoving my laptop in my bag and asked, “I’m not sure if I should say ‘good to see you.’ You’re not exactly giving that vibe. So I have to ask, is this a friendly visit, Eleanor?”
Without being invited, she sat her round ass in the chair across from me and answered, “Yes. Very.”
I didn’t believe her.
I kept giving her an opportunity anyway.
“You home to see your dad?”
Her face twisted and she didn’t bother to right it.
“Hardly.”
“Okay, I’m surprised to see you out of the blue at my office, and—”
“You are?” she cut me off. “You didn’t know I was back and forth from the Valley these days?”
Oh yes.
She knew we’d been covered.
And now we were not.
“I’d heard—” I began.
“Of course you’ve heard, because you’re fucking Hardcore.”
I didn’t know who she normally played with, but she wasn’t going to play with me.
“Whatever you have planned—”
“Do you know who Rosalie Kavanagh is?”
“No, and I don’t care who she is.”
“Really? You don’t care that she was Beck’s woman, and she was informing on Beck’s club to Chaos, and Beck found out? Now, I know you’re new to the life, so take it from me, that’s not a smart thing to do to an MC. Club business stays club business. No questions. None of those ifs ands or buts. But a rat?” She made a shoo noise. “A rat is dealt with like any rat should be.”
She clapped her hands together loudly, and I jumped.
“Swiftly,” she continued. “And that was what they did with Rosalie. Got her alone and beat that bitch down, she couldn’t even fucking move when they were done with her. Bitch didn’t walk away from that. Left her for dead. Beat her fucking bloody, just like she deserved. Beck did it. Spiderweb did it. Spartan did it. Rainman did it. Muzzle. Eightball.”