Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Now, I realize my mistake. I thought Einstein was smart enough to learn his lesson. I’m going to take great pleasure in killing the motherfucker. My only stumbling block is figuring out what I’m going to do with the girl and her mom. She’s a pretty young thing. How she could be related to Einstein is a mystery. That motherfucker is ugly all the way through.
I grab a banana off the plate she left and start trying to form a plan. I’m going to have to convince the girl to help me and soon. I don’t need Einstein to go on a meth binge and decide he has the balls to try to kill me as well as his sister. Time is of the essence here.
I just need to figure out how to reach the sweet little blonde.
I don’t usually have a problem getting women to do what I want. Hell, when most of them find out I’m in charge of the Deadly Scorpions, they fall all over me like annoying flies. This girl is definitely different, probably because she’s so young, so inexperienced. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve needed to seduce a woman to get what I want, but that doesn’t mean I can’t do it when I need to.
I’ve seen the interest in her eyes, the curiosity. I can’t pretend I don’t have the same reaction to her, despite her age and the circumstances.
Yeah, it’s definitely time to make my move. I can’t afford to wait on a tweaker like Einstein. Not at all.
Chapter Nine
Langley
I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling that’s stained and old, discolored. I pull the blanket closer to my chin, hearing the machines Mama is hooked up to come through the walls. At this point, it’s almost comforting hearing them, because I know she’s still with us, with me.
I close my eyes and try to relax, but all I can think about is the biker downstairs, the fact that he offered to help me, to get rid of Einstein. God, I want him to help me desperately, but at the same time, I know it’s too dangerous. I don’t care about me. I care about what will happen to Mama if I cross that line.
I think about him touching me, looking at me. Something must be wrong with me to have any kind of desire for him, but I can’t help it. He’s masculine and dangerous, making me feel alive. For the first time in my life, I feel something more than hate and fear, more than pain and worry. I like what he brings out in me, despite the fact that he’s dangerous and violent and can kill me without a thought.
He turns me on like nothing else in my life ever has.
I could have let myself fall asleep if I had enough time, but the sound of Einstein coming home, of him slamming the front door shut, has me snapping my eyes open and staring at the nasty ceiling again. My heart jumps in my throat as I hear him move around the house, hoping he isn’t too drunk or so high he bothers me.
That is a common occurrence with him. I tighten my hold on the blanket and stare at the bedroom door, my pulse starting to race ever-so-slightly. As far as I know, he hasn’t gone down to the basement. I don’t know what he’s waiting for. Maybe he wants to starve the man to death? Although he doesn’t know I’ve been sneaking food and water down to him. I don’t even want to think of what he will do to me if he finds out.
There is a moment of silence, and I think maybe he passed out. But then I hear him coming down the hall, closer to my bedroom. I sit up slightly and rest my back against the wall, my bed made up of just a mattress. I don’t have the luxury of even a frame for it, much less a headboard. But I don’t need it. I don’t need much to survive, in fact.
His footsteps stop, and I look at the bottom of the door, that small space where the wood doesn’t meet the floor. I can see the shadow of his feet, twin darkness that has my heart stopping for a moment. My throat is dry, tight. I don’t know what he’ll do. If he’s in a foul mood, anything can set him off. Hell, even not having any food in the house is somehow my fault, so much so I get slapped around for it.
But then I think about Mama, how I’d rather he put that aggression toward me, because I can’t stomach the very idea of him laying a hand on her. She’s vulnerable and helpless, and I’m the only one who can protect her.