Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Two guys walked toward her, laughing it up. “Dude, did you see Deadpool drop that fucking case?”
The other guy cringed. “I can’t even look at him.”
Six thunks followed:
One—Jersey’s bag hitting the floor.
Two through five—a quick upper cut and jab to the first guy, quickly followed by the same to the second guy.
The final thunk was her body hitting the ground as security closed in around her.
“Stop!” Max yelled, shoving her way into the crowd gathered around Jersey’s reprimanded body on the cold concrete. “Oh my god … get her off the ground. What the hell happened?” Max’s frantic voice matched the rapid ping-pong of her gaze going from Jersey to the security guards to the two victims.
“She assaulted them.” One of the security guards nodded to the two men.
Max’s head jerked back. “Excuse me?”
Jersey held a stiff poker face as they helped her upright. It wasn’t her first time in handcuffs or her first time being accused of assaulting someone. She could have hit them harder. No one seemed to notice that the damage was minimal—no blood and nothing broken but two male egos.
“She hit you?” Max questioned the two men leaning against the opposite wall, rubbing their minor wounds. “What did you do?”
“Nothing. That’s just it!” The stumpy guy wearing a baseball cap on backward shot Jersey a scowl.
“You were picking on my friend! Assholes.”
“Chris?” Max questioned the two men.
They didn’t reply, but their set jaws and firm glares answered her question.
“Are you pressing charges?” a security guard asked.
“Yes…” Max folded her arms over her chest “…are you pressing charges? Do you want everyone else to know that you got your asses handed to you by her?”
Jersey took offense to Max’s implication regarding her gender, but she managed to bite back her defense since she liked Max.
Both men dropped their gazes to the ground while mumbling, “No.”
The guards removed her handcuffs. Jersey grabbed her bag and followed Max without being asked to do so. She knew the next step involved getting fired. Chris was right. They’d be back at Marley’s in less than twenty-four hours.
“Where’s Chris?”
“I told you, he’s still tearing down.” Max worked her long, angry strides toward the exit.
“I’m not going back to Newark without him.”
Max ignored her.
“Did you hear me?” Jersey’s voice carried an edge to it.
Max stopped at the doors and whipped around. “Listen up, Jersey. Ian Cooper is not impulsive. He’s meticulous with his music, his business, and his personal life. But today he took off without telling me a thing. Then he hires two strangers off the street. You’re here because I trust his judgment. You’re here for a reason, even if he’s not ready to tell me what exactly that is … but nonetheless, I’m trusting him. That means it’s my job to protect you and Chris, but you have to help me out a bit. Okay?”
Jersey stared at Max for a few seconds, jaw set.
“I’ll take that as a silent yes.” Max pushed open the exit doors, tying the belt to her white coat as she strutted to a black SUV. Shane opened the back door. From the far side of the backseat, Ian glanced up from his phone and smiled at Jersey.
“Your special request for the day tried to beat up two members of your crew. I’m not saying they didn’t deserve it, but you know we can’t let that happen again.”
Ian’s smile faded. Jersey climbed into the backseat, holding his eye contact the whole time. She felt no regret for her actions.
“Goodnight.” Max shut the door.
The SUV took off as Jersey hugged her bag, eyes squinted a bit daring him to say something. Ian’s gaze moved along her face and the rest of her body. As much as she didn’t want a lecture or to get fired, his silence felt like a greater punishment than any words. After he seemed satisfied with his silent assessment of her, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
They stopped at a back entrance to the hotel. Ian slipped on a black beanie, like the gray one he gave Jersey, and hopped out of the SUV as Shane opened Jersey’s door, giving her a wry grin.
“Are you laughing at me?” She slid out and tried to get up in his face, which only amounted to her face meeting him mid-chest.
“Admiring your feistiness.” His smirk grew into something that she wanted to punch, but Ian cleared his throat behind her.
Jersey turned toward Ian, and they had another little stare off that Ian broke when Shane opened the back door to the hotel.
“Get your ass in the hotel, Jersey.” Ian grinned.
Jersey hated that grin—him dismissing her anger. She also loved it. And she hated herself for loving it, wanting it, feeling it on a visceral level.
Shane took them up the elevator and escorted them to a room at the end of a hall. Jersey inspected the doors. She didn’t remember her room number, and she didn’t have a key to it anyway.