Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 106292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Chapter 20
OAKLEY
This date fucking sucks.
I did my hair, even put the toner through it, and spent time on my makeup before stepping into a sexy little outfit, all for this guy to stare at me like he’s about to shit his pants.
What gives? He was so confident at the bar. If I knew he would be the nervous type, I wouldn’t have bothered. Hell, it’s not even worth using him as bait to get under Zade’s skin. He’s been telling me about his ex-girlfriend and how she would be furious if she knew he was out on a date tonight, and honestly, what the actual fuck? This is not the kind of bullshit I signed up for. I was looking for a good night, a little bit of fun. My last shot at being wined and dined, because fuck knows the guys aren’t about to do it.
They sit across the restaurant, all four of their stares locked on me. I’ve avoided looking over there for the fear of what I might see in their eyes—straight-up amusement. All four of them tried to talk me out of this, and I should have listened, but I was far too caught up with proving some kind of point.
Hell, after the night I had, I should be home in bed, nursing the massive bullet hole that’s currently residing in my arm. Well . . . okay, it’s not massive. More like a really nasty graze. The bullet tore through a bit of flesh, and I spent the night bent over the dining table while Easton stitched it up. Not gonna lie, it hurt like a bitch. But he was right, a good dose of morphine made it so much better. I don’t even remember him stitching up the gash across my chest.
The waitress comes by our table and gives Harley a flirty smile, and he lays on the charm for her, something he very clearly hasn’t been doing for me tonight. But considering the way he came onto me in the bar, he seemed so into me. Maybe I read it wrong. But then he wouldn’t have asked me out or even bothered to come along. If he’s not feeling it, then what the hell are we doing? Perhaps that makes me a bitch. I came into this with the full intention of using him for a good time, despite the three fuckboys I have who are more than happy to throw me around like a ragdoll and take me at a moment’s notice.
Harley and I put in our orders, and the waitress quickly scurries off with a bounce in her step, her hips swaying from side to side. I pour myself a glass of ice water and lift the straw to my lips as Harley watches me a little too closely. “So, ummm,” he starts as a sheer layer of sweat starts to form over his forehead. He pointedly stares at the bandages peeking out of the top of my shirt. “You good? What happened?”
Letting out a sigh, I place my water back on the table. “Would you believe me if I said I got into a shootout with twenty assassins and got my ass handed to me by some asshole’s knife?”
His eyes widen, real fear flashing in his gaze, but he quickly blinks it away before swallowing hard and grabbing his water. He hastily takes a sip and tries to laugh it off. “You’re such a joker,” he says, his eyes nervously flashing around the room before connecting to a table by the bar.
I follow his stare before connecting with Zade’s, and suddenly it all makes sense. Frustration burns through me, and I curse myself for not being firmer with the guys. I gave them my rundown of how I expected this to all go, what I wanted, and what I didn’t, but not once did I tell them they couldn’t get to Harley before I could. They found a loophole and exploited it just like good little criminals should, and that’s on me. Next time, I’ll know better.
Clenching my jaw, I take a deep breath before slowly exhaling and counting to three. When I open my eyes, I fix my hard stare on Harley, my hands braced against the table. “What did they say to you?”
His eyes widen again, the sweat starting to turn into puddles on his forehead. “Ahh, what?” he asks in a panic, nervously flicking his gaze between me and the boys. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Standing up, I brace my hands against the table and slowly lean toward him, holding him captive with my menacing stare. “I’m not asking you again, Harley,” I growl, the anger pounding through my veins, my tone filled with venom. “What did they say to you?”
“That . . . that,” his eyes widen with embarrassment. “Fuck.”