Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
“What the fuck did you say about my sister?” Remy’s jaw works from side to side as he takes a dangerous step closer to Wesley.
“Huh?” Wesley stares at Remy, wide-eyed. The hamster wheel of his brain turns slowly, but finally comprehension lights his vacant eyes as he makes the connection between Remy and Molly. “Ohhhh,” he breathes out like a dumbass.
“I got this.” I brace my hand against Remy’s chest. Anyone else who tried that would probably get their arm snapped off. Remy just glowers at me.
“What’d I tell you earlier?” I say to Wesley.
He stares into the void, the moment stretching as he no doubt searches his fuzzy memory. Finally, his mouth turns down in an oh, fuck sort of way. “Keep her name out of my mouth?”
“Yup.” I let loose with a fist to his jaw, snapping his head back. Pain sizzles through my fingers and up my arm. A split opens on his bottom lip and a trickle of red bubbles there. “That’s for saying her name.”
I’ll give Wesley credit—this time, he puts up his fists and drops into a half-assed fighting stance. He thinks he knows how to fight, but I’ve trained to fight to the death. I’m hyperaware of the power behind my fists and how much damage I can do.
Remy chuckles, crosses his arms over his chest, and leans against the wall.
Wesley throws a lazy punch that misses my face by a mile.
Nice try.
I pop him on the other side of his jaw, whipping his head in the opposite direction. “That one’s for Kyla.”
He drops to his knees. “Fuck,” he groans.
My legs tremble with the urge to smash my knee into his nose. But I restrain myself. I glance at Remy, and he nods. He steps closer to Wesley and grabs a fistful of his hair. Slowly, he tilts Wesley’s head back. Wesley winces and stares up at Remy with pleading eyes. “Stay away from my sister,” Remy seethes. “And her friends. Stick to college girls.”
Wesley chokes and twists away from Remy. He leans over and spits blood on the carpet.
“What’s wrong? College girls too smart for your bullshit?” Remy sneers. “Gotta prey on high school girls who don’t know any better?”
I scowl in Remy’s direction, but he ignores me.
Wesley holds up his hands in surrender. “I’m done with these little bitches. Trust me.”
“Good.” Remy slaps Wesley’s cheek. Hard. “We don’t want to have another conversation with you.”
Wesley jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “Kyla left her bag here. You want it?”
“Yes.” Remy nudges Wesley with his boot.
Wesley picks himself up from the floor without looking at either one of us. I track his movements carefully in case he’s going for a weapon. But he returns with a small, sparkly peach purse and a pair of gold strappy heels and holds them out to me. Thankfully, they appear puke-free.
“She leave anything else?” I ask.
He glances around the room. “I don’t think so.”
“All right.” I turn and head for the door. Once I have it opened, Remy joins me.
In the hallway, he shakes his head. “What the fuck? Why did he say that about Molly?”
I know him well enough to know it’s not the comment itself bugging him—it’s the how and why behind it. Shaking my head, I walk toward my room. “I think he hit on her and she turned him down once,” I explain over my shoulder.
“Christ,” he mutters. “He’s not good enough to breathe the same air as my sister, let alone talk to her.”
“Agreed.”
“You should’ve punched him harder.”
Now that we’re away from Wesley, I recognize a stinging ache in my hand. I shake it out and glance at my knuckles. Two are bleeding. Must’ve scraped them on Wesley’s teeth. “Fuck.” I flex my fingers a few times. Luckily, Wesley can’t throw a punch to save his life. Last thing I need is Diane finding out I got into a fight and kicking me off the show before it even starts.
“You’ve had worse.” Remy claps my shoulder.
We stop in front of the door to my room. “Your compassion is heartwarming, really.”
He chuckles and knocks. “You did good.”
“Thanks.” I pull out my phone and send Molly a text.
Me: At the door.
“When do you have to return Quill’s Mercedes?” Remy asks me while we’re waiting.
“Not until Monday.”
“I still can’t believe you had the balls to do that.” He chuckles.
I shrug. “Molly liked it.”
Finally, the door swings open. Molly blinks and yawns. Betrayal and shock register in her wide blue eyes when they land on Remy. “Why’d you call him?” She shoots a glare at me.
“Seriously?” Remy scoffs. “Get out here so I can talk to you.”
She glances down at her PJs and crosses her arms over her chest. “No.” She backs up, opening the door wider. “They’re all asleep,” she whispers.
Remy and I crowd inside. I hand her Kyla’s stuff and she takes it without looking at me.