Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
I take a deep breath, wanting to move away from her, shield myself from her heartache. I’ll never be her, never. I don’t know why the combination of her agony and honesty is suddenly making me angry, but it is. I want to scream at her that I told her to be careful. That he was a rock star and might not be everything she was convinced he was. But what good does that do now? She’s a mess. Clearly, we’re not getting on the road today. That weird feeling of anxiety, adrenaline… whatever it is makes me shiver as if someone has walked over my grave.
A dark-haired god covered in tattoos flashes through my mind. Instantly I jump up, rubbing my arms as if it’s freezing in here. Gia blinks at me, and for a moment I think she’s going to ask me what’s wrong. And I would tell her. I want to tell her, need to tell her. Instead, she flops back onto the bed and curls into a ball.
I’m tempted to crawl in with her, but I need to think. They want us out, though no one is getting Gia out until Gia is ready, so there’s that. I take a breath and remove my jacket. It’s not cold at all, and even with the weird goose bumps I keep getting, I’m starting to sweat.
“Can you turn off the light, please?” Gia’s voice is barely a whisper.
After turning off the light, I sit in a chair and lean my head back, trying to form a plan. But all my mind can focus on is him.
He’s everything that I will never have.
Powerful. Intimidating. Exciting… a bad boy to the hundredth degree. God, he might even be a killer.
I can’t have him, don’t want him. But that’s a lie. Deep inside, I know the truth. He made me feel things, and everything is different. And now, I’m scared he might be the only thing in this world I do need.
RYDER
Past
Disciples’ clubhouse
Burbank, CA
“Boris, get to the fucking point.” Blade lights up a cigarette, then tosses the pack to me.
Boris smiles, and his ugly gold tooth might as well have a sign on it saying ‘Kick Me Here’. I look away because I know he knows. We all know he knows, but he has no proof, or we’d be in a war instead of looking at his ugly face.
“I mean no disrespect as I am in your castle.” He looks around our conference room. It’s unlike me to be volatile, but these fucking pigs need to all be lined up and gunned down. We sell them drugs and guns, and even though we all know they’re into human trafficking, it was never obvious before.
Until a week ago.
The one thing you can always count on is A) they have nothing to lose and B) they will fuck up every time when vodka is involved.
That day was supposed to be a simple drop-off of Blade’s drug and guns. Get the cash and go. We never expected to see them bringing in a shipment of girls.
No fucking women. No fucking kids. I didn’t even think. Just put two rounds in each of their heads as Axel and Edge dug the graves.
Messy.
The driver ended up in a grave down the street. Of course, he had to be the brother of a higher-up…hence, Boris sitting in our fucking Church.
“None taken.” Blade props his booted feet on the edge of the table and folds his hands on his stomach.
“You know we search for Alex, Sergei, and poor Ivan… especially Ivan. You see he was the youngest brother of our Brigadier Alexei.” His voice trails off.
“Sucks, man. How can we help?” Blade drops his feet with a loud thud as I look at the piece-of-shit scum stinking up our conference room in their ugly sweatsuits.
They’re big, clearly here to send a message. Unfortunately, I’m bigger and far smarter.
“Well, I had hoped you could maybe help us understand why your men were the last to see them.”
And there it is. Blade slowly stands, and I remain seated. Axel moves forward and the room crackles with an energy that makes my dick hard.
“Say that again?” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes as the sweatsuit scum unzip their jackets.
Boris holds up his hand signaling for them to stop. “Again, I”—he motions to his guys—“we come in respect. We do business a long time with you.” His beady eyes find mine.
My chair scrapes loudly, breaking the silence in the room, and I stand to my full height.
“Then in all due respect,” Blade says, “my men dropped off our shipments, got our money, and left.”
Boris straightens his sleeve, his tattoos peeking through, fucking thug. His dad was high up in the KGB. It’s the only reason he’s gotten as far as he has.