Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
I scrunch up my nose. There’s a dank, musty smell over all of the alcohol. It’s then I remember I rented a cheap-ass motel room last night. Needing away from my father’s condemning stare, I left the club with Raze. We ended up at Pussy’s watching the dancers. Pussy’s is one of the oldest joints that our club owns. The other is Wolf’s Den. Dad tore down all the other old ones and replaced them with new, sleek buildings. We now have fine dining restaurants, bowling alleys, diners, a jump zone and even an inflatable kids themed place. They’re all legitimate businesses that rake in the dough. We have garages all over our territory that do the same. The biggest is in the heart of London. Savage Bikes gets business from around the country. It’s also Dad’s pride and joy. We create custom bikes from the tires up and they’re highly sought after. Dad’s careful about who he accepts as a client and although each bike is top tier, they can’t touch the ones we build for our own club members.
I push those thoughts out of my head and begin hating myself for the shit I’m doing. For a moment during dinner with Thea, I felt myself wanting her to be proud of me. We had our first deep one-on-one talk in a long time—hell, maybe ever. It felt damn good. She sure as hell would be ashamed of me now. She’d go back to not talking to me again. The kicker of it all is, I don’t even enjoy what I’m doing. I just feel lost.
I sure as hell don’t know why I ended up at a strip joint. I’ve been so drunk off my ass lately that I’ve had a severe case of whiskey dick. I remember little of my time at Pussy’s. I do know that Raze left earlier than me, but I drank until I no longer cared about the shit my life had become. I don’t remember going back to the hotel, but I guess I should be thankful I made it back in one piece.
“Fuck,” I hiss as I sit up, holding my head in my hands when the pain makes it tempting to gouge out my own eyes just to stop the pounding behind them.
“You okay, baby?”
I freeze as I hear that voice. My body grows taut with distress when a hand glides down my back. I jerk away from her instantly, jumping out of the bed.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I growl, knowing my face probably looks as panicked as I feel.
“What do you mean?”
I shake my head trying to deny what I’m seeing. Gabby in the bed, the green hotel sheet pooled around her hips, her hair mussed from sleep, and her tits exposed, her nipples hard and sticking out, wanting attention. At one time in my life, I would have fucking got down on my knees to see her like this. Now? My fucking blood runs cold.
“What the fuck are you doing in that bed?”
“I was trying to sleep because my man wore me out last night.”
No, no, no! My mind rails against what she’s saying. There’s no way I would have allowed Gabby back into my bed. Fuck no, not after everything I’ve found out about her and definitely not since I’ve discovered her trail of lies.
“The fuck I did. I wouldn’t want you here, even if you were the last fucking woman on the planet.”
Her face immediately falls into a pout where she bites on her lip and looks up at me. I know she expects me to give into her immediately. That’s what I always did in the past. That’s before I realized what a fool she made of me.
I look around to find my pants, immediately upset when I see them folded on the dresser that is opposite the bed. I wouldn’t fold my pants. That means Gabby did it. Jesus. I was hoping this was a nightmare, but it’s slowly dawning on me that getting drunk out of my head is coming back to bite me in the ass. Apparently, I did the one thing that I swore I would never do again. I grab my pants and my shirt, feeling as if I can’t breathe. I put them on in record time, thanking God that my wallet and shit are in my pockets. I look down on the floor and see my damn cut. Christ, that’s something I’d never do. It’s beyond time I quit drinking. I only need to look at the bitch in that bed to know that. I’m just starting to mend fences with T over this crap. I almost lost him completely and now look what I’ve done? How in the hell will he react when he finds out I slept with this bitch again, despite how much she lied to the both of us? T doesn’t even know how much she’s lied to me. I never tried to defend myself—at least not completely. He can’t find out about this. I can’t allow her to come between me and T again.