Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Sailor sits slumped, unconscious in a chair in the middle of the room with everyone circling her like she’s their live bait and they’re all damn sharks. I’m one-hundred percent certain that Sailor could kick Paige’s ass. But, of course, Paige didn’t make the game fair because she’s gotten her family involved.
Big fucking mistake.
They all step back as I stride into the room and go straight to Sailor. Frank’s hand was on her shoulder, so I lift my gun as he removes it, then shoot his fucking hand and the other one too for good fucking measure. His useless screams fill the room, but I don't give one fuck.
“Keir.” Paige says my name and steps closer to me, daring to place her hand on my arm. As soon as she makes contact, I raise my gun and aim it at her head. “Keir don’t do this. She isn’t worth it.”
“You or your mother?” I ask her.
Her eyes go wide, and I hear her breath catch in her chest.
“I know this idea came from you and her. You two bitches need to learn to stay in your lane. So, which one will it be? You. Or. Your. Mother.”
“My mother,” Paige says without hesitating.
I look to her mother, who swears something at Paige before I shoot her in the head. She drops to the floor like the sick piece of shit she is.
“You’ll forgive me, right?” Paige asks.
I look over my shoulder to see Sailor moving, her eyes blinking as she comes around. Then she clutches her hand. What’s wrong with her hand?
“What did you do to her?” My voice is even, almost quiet, but she knows I’m hanging on the edge and one step over will have me slicing her throat.
“She stabbed her,” Frank says, lying on the floor, clutching both his hands to his chest. “Like you fucked mine up, asshole.” Before I can raise my gun, Joey steps in front of me, blocking my line of sight to Frank.
“She needs a hospital,” Joey says and nods to Sailor, her eyes red and full of tears as she cradles her hand.
I turn back to Paige. “You better hope I never see your face again. Ever,” I growl through gritted teeth.
“You’ll change your mind. I’ll give you time.”
“What you need is a bullet between your eyes,” I tell her as I reach for Sailor.
Chapter Thirty
Sailor
Arms wrap around me, and I know instantly who it is. I try to push him away, as weak as my attempt may be, because he is the reason I’m in this mess. He is the reason that pain shoots through every molecule of my body. But when he whispers in my ear, “I got you,” my body relaxes, and I know I’m safe.
I hate that.
I hate that when I’m with him a part of me goes into a state of bliss that I’ve never experienced with anyone else in my life.
Why is life so unfair?
I can hear her voice in the background, begging him for something, but I just can’t understand what she’s saying. The pain in my hand and my face keeps me from focusing even with the amount of blinking I am doing.
“I’m taking you home,” he says gently.
“No. Hospital,” I whisper through the pain.
I feel him pause.
“I have top doctors.”
“Put me down then,” I say back to him, more firmly this time. I try to move from his grasp, but I don’t get very far.
“Hospital it is.”
I contemplate for one second to say thank you, but that would be a waste of time because I’m not thankful. If I hadn’t met him, I wouldn’t be in the situation I’m in. I guess the real villain in the story is Dillan, but he’s dead, so the only living subject to blame carries me out and into a car with such tenderness, I’m not even sure it’s him. Keir softly strokes my hair as I stay cradled in his arms during the drive, telling me it will be okay over and over again for the whole ride.
And for some insane reason …
… I believe him.
I have stitches in my hand, and my face is going to bruise, but it will heal with time. Keir took me to a private hospital and hasn’t left the room since we arrived. They want me to stay for a few days to keep an eye on my hand to make sure no infection occurs after the operation to fix the nerve damage. It will be a few weeks before we’ll know if I’ll regain full use of it.
“Why did you go?” he asks me.
It’s late, I’m tired, and the last thing I want to do is sit here and answer questions about his crazy baby mama. So, I ignore him.
“Sailor, why did you go?”
Huffing, I say, “I thought it was you.”