Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 45045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
I wanted to kill Gus. No. I wanted to kill Eli. I wanted to kill him dead and then stomp on his body and set it on fire. Because no matter what I did, it would never be enough.
Eli always won.
“I’d like a few minutes alone,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady and even, despite the fact that I could feel screams of rage fighting to escape. I heard the creak of Gus’s chair as he stood, and the sound of his feet as he came to stand behind me. He probably had that look on his face—the same one he always wore when I was sad. Soft and kind, as if he wanted to wrap me in his arms and protect me and keep me safe forever.
I’d trusted that look when I was a little girl. Believed it when I was a teenager, too, even after I’d learned the truth about why my mom had left him. And I’d trusted it two years ago when he’d first talked to me about buying the bar.
God, I was such an idiot.
“Gus just wasn’t the man I wanted him to be.” My mom’s words echoed through my head. “My only mistake was thinking I could change him, Peaches.”
Why the hell hadn’t I listened to her?
“Doesn’t feel right, leaving you like this.”
“I don’t really care how you feel, Gus,” I said, refusing to look at him. Instead, I fixed my gaze on the signed poster from Daytona Bike Week that I’d given him for Christmas a couple of years ago. Finding it hadn’t been easy. I’d had to hunt down the artist, a guy who worked at Harley Davidson.
“I’ll always be here for you, baby girl.”
His voice held pain, and a part of me wanted to push down the anger. Wanted to wrap my arms around him and tell him it was okay. Just like I’d said it was okay when he canceled my tea party to work on his bike. Or all the times he’d asked me to help close the bar, even when I’d worked doubles all week. I’d never told him no. I loved him too much. Loved him and the fucking Starkwood.
My fury exploded, and I spun on him.
“Get out.”
Gus took a step back, and his eyes widened. He seemed almost afraid. Good. He should be frightened, because he’d just fucked up. Fucked up big time. Things would never be the same between us again, because Mom had been right about him.
I’d be damned if I’d give him another chance to hurt me.
He opened his mouth, but I raised my hand, holding it in front of his face like a stop sign.
“Get out!” I said, my voice rising. “Get the fuck out of here, you lying bastard!”
I stepped forward into his space, backing him toward the hallway with the force of my raw anger. His feet had barely cleared the threshold before I slammed the door in his face. I slid home the oversized barrel bolt with a satisfying thud, then turned to look at the poster again.
Rip it down, the rage hissed. Slice it to pieces. He doesn’t deserve it.
It was a solid idea, and I knew exactly how to do it, too. Stalking around the desk, I reached up and under the flat surface, fingers feeling for the survival knife Gus had kept hidden there for as long as I could remember. That would be in addition to the gun he’d taped up along the inner right side, and the baseball bat leaning against the battered file cabinet.
It only took a few seconds to find the knife, and one more to pop the snap holding it in the scabbard. The blade slipped free, ten inches of steel alloy that’d be more than enough to shred the pathetic reminder of how much of myself I’d given to Gus’s bar.
No.
It was Eli’s bar now.
I raised a finger to test the blade, mesmerized as a tiny bead of blood welled up from a cut so clean that I hardly registered the pain. The sight fed the rage burning deep within, and I thought about Eli’s smug face as he taunted me.
“You know, you’d be a lot prettier if you smiled.”
Oh, I could give him a smile. A truly lovely one. Right across his smug throat. Gus thought Eli should have the bar? Fine, Eli could have the fucking bar. Eli could have everything.
Good luck trying to enjoy it once I’m done with you, motherfucker.
Chapter Three
~Eli~
I prowled through the bar, unable to focus.
Gage, Rance, and the rest of my club brothers had cleared out by the time I left Gus’s office. Apparently, their business here was done, and socializing wasn’t on the agenda. Probably looking to avoid any drama.
Hard to blame them.
The night that Glory—Peaches’ mom—had walked in on Gus fucking one of the waitresses in the storeroom was something of a club legend. To say that she’d raised hell was a bit of an understatement… Only luck had saved the Starkwood from burning down.