Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26277 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26277 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Mac nodded but didn’t say anything since his old lady, Bridget, and Rom’s bride, Layla, stepped out of the bathroom. He kissed his woman’s forehead and smacked her ass. “I’ll meet you by the cake, baby.”
Bridget looked around at the three of us, then patted me on the shoulder as she passed. “Your turn, huh?”
Layla looked at Rom with a question in her eyes, but he shook his head and took her hand. Then he glanced at me and Mac. “Let me know if I’m needed,” he said before walking away with his bride.
“You know who’s hurting her?” Mac questioned.
“Pretty sure it's her father,” I snarled, feeling even more angered that she was suffering at the hands of someone whose job it was to protect her.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
“Something about the way he looked at her, almost desperate. And the irritation in her expression when he dragged her away. I think there’s more to the story. I need to get her away from him.”
“No question,” he agreed. “But if it’s her parent…” He stared at the wall for a moment and stroked his beard. When he met my eyes again, I knew what he was about to ask.
“I don’t know how old she is. If I had to guess, I’d say over eighteen, but I won’t know for sure until Grey tracks her down.”
Mac sighed and crossed his lean arms over his broad chest. “You know we’ll handle this either way,” he assured me. “But it’ll be a fuck of a lot harder if she isn’t legal, especially if the abuser is a parent.”
“Understood.” I’d already thought through many, many scenarios. “One more thing.”
Mac raised a silver eyebrow and waited.
“She’s injured. Patch is headed home in the morning, and even if he wasn’t, he doesn’t have a clinic here…” I trailed off, knowing he would pick up on my request without my needing to voice it.
“You want me to put in a call to Fox.” It was a statement, not a question, so I didn’t respond.
Patch was our club doctor. He had a clinic attached to our clubhouse, but we were in Old Bridge, where Layla was from—a couple of hours from the Silver Saints compound.
Through Grey’s old lady, we had a connection to the VP of the local MC, the Iron Rogues. The prez, Fox, ran their club in the same way Mac handled the Silver Saints. Their activities weren’t exactly legal, but they weren’t involved in dirty shit like drugs or the sex trade. They respected women and were known to help people who needed to disappear. But most importantly, they had their own doctor.
“I’ll give him a call and let you know what he says. Go on back to the hotel so you’re ready when Grey has her location.”
I jerked my chin up in acknowledgment, then turned and headed to the parking lot.
3
TESSA
Glancing down at my cell phone as it rang, I saw the name of one of my high school friends flash across the screen. I wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, but that didn’t stop me from answering. At the very least, connecting with Sarah was a temporary reprieve from the bone-deep loneliness I was feeling.
“Hello.”
“Hey, girl. I feel like it’s been forever since we’ve seen each other.”
Flopping against my mattress, I stared up at my ceiling. “Yeah, it does.”
“That’s why you need to come to the lake with us today,” she suggested. “Brian’s dad said he could take the boat out, so you know it’s gonna be a blast.”
So much for Sarah providing a happy distraction. Her invitation only made me feel worse because the last time I went out on the lake with my friends was the day before my mom’s fatal car accident. She’d packed a cooler full of food and sent me on my way with a smile. It was the last time I’d seen her, and the reminder of that day plummeted my bad mood even further.
The invitation also drove home why I couldn’t turn to my old friends for help—their lives were centered around themselves. If Sarah had really wanted to see me, she would’ve suggested anything other than a day on the lake. A good friend would’ve stopped to think about how much the reminder of my mom would hurt me.
Barely holding back tears, I mumbled, “Thanks, but I can’t make it. Sorry, maybe next time.”
Not giving Sarah the chance to reply, I ended the call and buried my face in my pillow. Just when I thought my day couldn’t get any worse, I had to be reminded again of what I’d lost when my mom died.
Any hope that I had of getting my old dad back disappeared when I handed the completed paperwork over to the bank employee yesterday. He hadn’t cared that he’d gambled my future away. All he’d wanted was the money my mom had scrimped and saved to give me the education she’d always wanted.