Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
And right then, the reality of their lives really crashed down on me. It was easy to pretend they were just normal people, just a group of close friends. But that wasn't the case, not even remotely. The Henchmen MC were arms dealers. They sold illegal guns to other bad guys.
They were the kind of people who participated in and went to spectate cage fights. They got into fights with each other over cooking.
They weren't exactly good people.
That being said, was it really my place to judge? I had been an addict. I had almost overdosed. I got myself wrapped up with some bad people in my own life, the kind of bad people who maybe made The Henchmen MC seem pretty decent by comparison.
True, I generally tried to abide by the law as much as possible. I had been raised to be a good person. But maybe it was possible to be a good person without obeying all the laws.
There was a loud slamming sound that made my attention shoot to the cage, my heart wedged up so high I felt like I was choking on it, worried about Lazarus being hurt.
But it was the other guy- the giant by the name of Igor- who was passed out, half-crushed against the side of the cage.
My eyes went to Lazarus, finding him a little bloody, a little sweaty, but seemingly unharmed.
"Drinks on me, Cyrus declared to the not small group of women around him. "My buddy just made me five-hundred," he added, arms slung around two women's lower backs as he led them toward the bar.
"See? He's fine," Edison told me, giving me a small smile. "Now you can take him home and give him a reward."
With that, I was alone again, wondering if it was my place to walk over and meet him by the cage door or not. That seemed like something a woman did for her man. But that being said, he wasn't exactly my man. Sure, we had made out and maybe he had implied he wanted more than friendship with me, but that didn't mean we were together together. So I stayed where I was, expecting him to go back into the locker room to change back, but he came toward me instead, taking the towel someone tossed at him and wiping the sweat and blood away.
"You wanna hang for a bit or head back?" he asked, not giving me any indication of his own preference.
"Um, well, whatever you want to..."
"Bethany," he said, moving a little closer, head ducked down. "You've had a fuck of a couple days. Now, I don't know where you are right now- if you would prefer to be out and away from the urges or if you want to get out of those heels and curl up in bed with some Advil and catch up on sleep. Me? I don't care either way."
He meant that too.
It wasn't some kind of test.
"Okay," I said, nodding. "Well, bed sounds good," I said, leaving out the sleep part, letting that opportunity stay open.
I wasn't exactly someone who slept around, generally only having sex within relationships of which I didn't usually put too much effort into getting into, so it wasn't like me to want to go to bed with him so quickly. But then again, no man I had ever dated had ever seemed to get me. No one saw all the dark and twisted and ugly and wanted me still.
He understood my addiction and withdrawal.
He knew how it felt to lose his mother to an awful, crippling disease.
He knew how it was to be alone and hopeless.
That connection, I knew enough about life to know it was rare. It was something precious that should be explored.
I wanted to explore.
I was going to, maybe for the first time in my life, trust my mother's advice and give the good guy a chance.
Also, all that deep stuff aside, I was still turned on from the makeout session earlier. Let's not pretend that that wasn't a factor. I wanted him, plain and simple. Like any woman wanted a man who was hot, sexy, sweet, and good to her.
I wanted him.
I wasn't going to try to keep him at arm's length as was my usual MO.
I was going to give it a chance.
"Alright, let me just catch up with Ross and I will meet you by the doors," he said, nodding toward the doors toward the staircase.
He moved away to, I imagined, get paid, and I made my way to the door and waited.
It was right about then that I felt a hand close around my bicep-tight, way way too tight to be anyone I had known over the past few days. None of them would grab me hard enough to bruise me.
At least I was pretty sure of that.