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 know that look on your face, boy,” he said, warning clear in his voice. “You don’t get to—”
“All due respect, Gus, but we’re not in high school anymore. This is my business, not yours.”
My uncle’s eyes widened, and for a moment, I thought he might challenge me. Then he looked away, nodding slowly.
“Guess you’re right,” he said.
Another crash rattled the door as he walked away, and I settled in to wait. Sooner or later, she’d run out of shit to break in there. I wasn’t stupid enough to think that’d be enough to exhaust her rage, so I’d best be ready.
In the distance, I heard Gus’s loud voice announcing that everyone needed to head outside for a break.
The door rattled again, then it burst open.
Peaches stepped out, and the first thing I saw was the way her eyes seemed to shoot pure fire.
Just like her mother’s.
The second thing was the giant fucking survival knife gripped tightly in her right hand. A sane man might’ve taken that as a bad sign, but I’d left my sanity behind me, right next to my decency.
This wasn’t a threat. This was an opportunity.
Someone had to take her down, and as her new boss, that definitely qualified as my job. Only responsible thing to do, really… Couldn’t let the customers see her like this.
If I got lucky, I’d get to wrestle with her a bit in the process.
“Still think I’d be prettier if I smiled?” she asked, the words intense and full of hate.
“Yeah,” I replied, licking my lips. A wave of heat surged down my spine, and I felt my hips shift restlessly as my cock throbbed. “But pretty is boring. I like you better when you’re pissed off. Makes me want to push you down over that desk and fuck you.”
* * * *
~Peaches~
“You always find a way to make it worse, don’t you?” I asked, fingers tightening around the knife’s grip.
Eli nodded, wearing the same sly, taunting smirk he’d worn when he’d held his BB gun to Lemur’s head all those years ago.
“You sure you want it to go down like this?” he asked, eyes flicking toward the knife. “That’s a very grown-up toy, and you’re not a very big girl. Hardly big enough to hold it.”
Fucking.
Bastard.
He wouldn’t stop until I snapped, of course. He got off on poking at me, and I knew it…but for once, I didn’t care. I’d stepped out of that office fully intending to slit his throat. This just confirmed the decision.
And once I finished with him? Well, then I’d go after Gus. Because fuck them. Fuck both of them and their stupid club.
Eli just stood there, gloating. Waiting for me to bitch him out? I didn’t bother. Shifting my feet for balance, I lowered the knife between us, then took a steadying breath. The blade was heavy, but I was strong from years of hauling big serving trays over my head.
I lunged.
He reacted instantly—Eli had always been fast—his hand flashing out to catch my arm, jerking it high over my head as he stepped into my space. But this wasn’t our first fight, or even our first fight with a knife. I’d nearly taken his eye out at a second-grade picnic. I knew how he moved, and I knew how to use it to my advantage. The knife was just the bait. I ignored the pain of his fingers squeezing my wrist and brought my knee up toward his crotch with every ounce of strength I possessed.
It was random luck that saved his balls. He chose that exact moment to twist my arm down and around. That sent me lurching to the side, my knee smashing into his thigh instead of his nuts. Eli’s eyes narrowed, and the smirk disappeared.
Good. About time he remembered to take me seriously.
His grip on my wrist tightened, squeezing the bones together until they screamed in pain. I kept hold of the knife. He could break my wrist for all I cared.
Taking advantage of his distraction, I jabbed the fingers of my left hand toward the little hollow at the base of his throat. He managed to partially deflect that, too, loosening his grip on my knife hand in the process. I tried to jerk it free, my other hand dodging his as he tried to catch it. The man might be fast, but I was faster. Fast and determined.
This time, I went for his nipple.
I twisted it hard through his shirt, savoring the vivid red flush that came over his face. Eli’s nipples were sensitive as hell, always had been. It’d been a go-to for me all through elementary school. I hadn’t tried it since we were adults, but some things never changed.
Then he caught my wrist, wrenching my grip loose from the nipple in a move that must’ve been excruciating—I wouldn’t let him go easily. That’s where I had the advantage, I realized. Eli wouldn’t hurt me. I knew it on some deep level. Instinctively.