Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
“You stay back,” Grease ordered them, his voice shaking. “Let the boys handle it.”
He moved toward the end of the hall and pushed his way inside another door, then froze in the middle of the room. He took a shaky breath, then another.
“Asa?” Callie’s trembling voice called as she came in behind us.
“Come in, sugar,” he ordered. “Close the door.”
Callie followed his directions and walked around us slowly until she was standing right in front of us. I was still curled up in a ball with my arms covering my head, and even as Grease’s breathing evened out, he didn’t set me down. He just stood there with me in his arms, completely still.
“You’re scaring me,” Callie said softly.
Grease’s chest heaved in what might have been a sob and he cleared his throat. “Sit down, Calliope.”
He moved slowly and sat down on the bed, but his hold on me didn’t loosen. He just continued to hold me tight as he rested me on his thighs.
“Heather,” Callie said gently, running her hand down the back of my head. “You okay, baby?”
I shuddered, but didn’t answer her.
How could I even answer that? I’d just watched the man I’d married completely lose control. He’d been coming for me and if the men in the room hadn’t stopped him, I had no idea what would have happened. I didn’t know that man. The Tommy I knew had never even raised his voice at me.
“You need to start talkin’,” Grease said roughly, resting his chin on the top of my head. “But you just take a minute, girl. It’s alright now. You just take a minute.”
I let out a small sob, and bit my lips to stop any more sound from escaping.
“What the hell is going on?” Farrah snapped as she pushed inside the room.
“Get outta here, Farrah,” Grease ordered.
“Hawk?” she asked, completely ignoring him. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”
“She’s fine,” Grease replied. “Shaken up.”
“Casper’s in with the boys talking to Tommy,” Farrah said, closing the door behind her. “They’re calming him down.”
I whimpered and Grease’s arms tightened.
“My son is not the priority here,” Grease said softly.
I sucked in a desperate breath as I tried to get myself to stop shaking. I just wanted to be home in my apartment, away from all of those people. I didn’t want to lift my head and deal with their concern. I didn’t want to answer their questions or assure them I was fine. I just wanted to be alone.
I shifted and Grease’s arms dropped as I straightened my legs. My arms were the last thing to unfold, and it was almost painful as I moved them away from my head. My biceps had muffled all sound, and when I dropped my arms down at my sides I could hear the music and people out in the main room of the clubhouse, partying like nothing was wrong.
I stood up on shaking legs, and put out a hand to stop Grease when he reached out to steady me.
“I’m okay,” I mumbled, my eyes darting around the room. “Nice digs.”
“Farrah,” Grease said, ignoring my compliment. “Out. Now.”
She looked me over and huffed in annoyance, then left the room, shutting the door behind her.
“Start talkin’,” Grease ordered.
“Asa,” Callie snapped.
“I ain’t bein’ mean,” Grease said, watching me. “And I ain’t angry. But you will tell me what I wanna know.”
“Tommy,” I murmured, glancing at the door.
“I ain’t gonna let him hurt you,” Grease promised, making Callie lift her hand to her mouth in horror. “But somethin’s goin’ on with my boy, and if you don’t tell me what that is, there ain’t no way I can help him.”
I shook my head and stared at the floor, my mind racing. I’d kept the secret for so long I wasn’t even sure I’d be able to say it out loud. I’d come close in the room with Tommy, but I didn’t know how I could look at Callie and Grease and tell them what I knew.
“You said Mark Phillips was a bad man,” Grease said roughly, his hand finding Callie’s thigh. She laid her hand on top of his in support.
“Yes,” I replied hoarsely.
“He hurt you?” Grease asked.
“No,” I whispered.
“He hurt my son?” he ground out, his voice shaking.
I closed my eyes and sucked in a sharp breath, clenching my hands into fists. “Yes,” I answered through gritted teeth.
Callie moaned.
“Which son?” Grease rasped.
I couldn’t look at him. I could hear their unsteady breathing, loud in the room, and I couldn’t even look at their faces.
“Micky,” I cried quietly, the word breaking right down the middle.
I dropped my head in my hands and shuddered as I heard Callie start to cry.
“Michael was two hundred pounds of muscle,” Grease said in a ragged voice.
I finally turned to look at him, and the devastation on his face nearly killed me.