Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“Come on, Cormac. Let’s go,” I mutter, starting past the dumbfucks.
Jeremy knocks my phone from my hand. It hits the floor with a loud crack, and then he stomps on it, a sadistic grin on his face. “Whoops.”
“Asshole,” I growl, bending to pick up my destroyed phone. “You’re going to pay for this.”
“I can afford it.” Jeremy shrugs. “Don’t you have faggot friends back in New York you should run back to?”
Anger surges up inside of me. “You do realize you’re in a gay nightclub, right? Careful, Powers. Someone is going to think you’re one of my friends here in Brigs Ferry Bay.” I sneer at him. “Maybe a friend with benefits.”
The color leeches from his face. “I’m only here to see you.”
“Sounding gayer by the second,” I taunt.
Jeremy pokes me hard in the chest. “Watch your fucking mouth or—”
“Or you’ll do what?” Zak booms from behind them, Cameron at his side.
“Send me the bill,” Jeremy spits out, eyes locked on me. “Bye, freak.”
He and his douchebag friends leave. Cameron follows after them, I’m assuming to make sure they leave while Zak remains. He storms over to me, a frown on his face.
“You guys okay?”
I hold up my smashed phone. “Fucking peachy.”
“Want me to call Jax or Atlas?” Zak asks. “Or, I could just go kick Powers’ ass.”
“It’s fine,” I grumble. “I’ll tell Atlas when he gets home.”
I start past Zak, but he grabs my arm.
“Where are you going?” he demands.
“Home.” I shake off his hold. “I’m tired and in a pissy mood. I just want to go home and pet my cat. Is that okay with you?”
Zak’s nostrils flare. “You don’t have to be an asshole.”
“Whatever,” I growl. “I’ll talk to you guys later.”
“I’ll run you home,” Zak says with a tired sigh.
“I can walk.”
“Not after that bullshit,” Zak roars. “Over my dead body.”
“I can handle myself. I was handling things just fine before you showed up playing hero.”
My words are unfair, but he’s pushing. I’m done being pushed tonight.
“Callan!” Zak calls out.
“Later, Zak.”
I storm out of Blur. Outside, Cameron is staring up the road, with Misty tucked under his arm.
“You leaving?” he asks.
“Yep.”
“That safe?”
“Not you too.”
He chuckles. “Just don’t go that way, and you’ll be fine.”
I give him a sarcastic salute and head in the opposite direction that Jeremy must have gone. It’s cold as fuck tonight, and the snow is relentless. I trudge along the sidewalk wishing like hell it was fashionable to wear a damn coat to a nightclub.
It’d be just my luck to die from hypothermia.
With that thought, I pick up my pace and hurry the hell home.
Atlas
My desk is a nightmare. Files are spread everywhere as I go on a wild goose chase, trying to connect the dots of my life. Ned Townsend is an asshole with a reason to hate Callan. It was because of what Ned’s son, Hank, did to Callan that sent Hank to prison. I’m sure Ned can’t stand the very ground Callan walks on. Then there’s Dean, who hates me, my parents who also hate me, and Jeremy and Wallace, who hate us equally.
The caller earlier tonight made it seem like there were a group of them all working together.
Whoever the caller was, they’re either connected to all of them, or it was one of them disguising their voice. As much as I want to arrest every goddamn one of them, I need proof. My dad would have a blast shredding my career apart if I don’t.
I rub my fingers over the back of my neck, trying to ease the tension there. The number I’d attempted to trace belongs to a burner phone. It’s like I’m grasping for straws here while Callan’s safety hangs in the balance.
Earlier, I’d still been pissed off about him leaving to go walking through the night by himself. When he texted me, I admittedly was being a dick. Now, the guilt is starting to seep into my pores. I just want my shift to end so I can grovel at his feet. We’ll figure everything out without ruining this thing between us.
I love him, and I’ll be damned if I lose him over this crap.
I’m going to have to text him and make things right. I pick up my phone, open our message window, and admire his gorgeous face. Tonight, he’s wearing silver, glittery eyeliner that goes with a shimmery silver sweater he’d chosen to wear.
Me: You’re so beautiful.
I wait for his reply, but it doesn’t show as read, which means he’s probably dancing the night away. Just imagining him sweaty and writhing to the pulse of the music has my throat going dry. God. I fucking miss him. We’ve had one fight and barely been separated a few hours, but you’d think it’s been weeks by the way my chest aches.
Me: I miss you, sweetheart. Come see me.