Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
As I got to the edge of the street, though, where I had the choice to keep going straight toward The Bog and the safety the Murphy brothers could provide, I went to the right.
There was only one place to go to the right.
Straight to the Henchmen clubhouse.
I didn’t even try to tell myself that I was going there because Dell was there. Or because I could get myself some weapons there.
I knew exactly why I was parking in their lot, then walking up to their front door. Why I was lifting my shaky arm and knocking.
Slash.
We hadn’t parted on good terms.
But his last words to me had been clear.
When I realized I could trust him with the shit that was going on with me, I knew where to find him.
I was finally ready.
To trust him.
To ask for his help.
Almost as if he sensed that it was me, that I needed him, it was he who moved into the space when the door opened.
His gaze went to my face and I watched as a quiet sort of rage took over his face, making him look even more dangerous than usual.
“Who did it?” he hissed, voice deeper than I’d ever heard it.
“So, ah, remember when you told me that when I figured out that I can trust you with what’s going on, that I could come to you?”
“Nyx, who the fuck did this to you?”
“You remember saying that, right?” I asked, tone a little tight, feeling like I was choking on my desperation.
“Yeah, babe, I remember saying that,” he said, nodding.
“I, ah, I’m ready to trust you. I need your help.”
CHAPTER TEN
Slash
I actually caught myself hoping for Erion to show his face, to start a street war.
Something, anything that would demand my attention, that would distract me from fucking obsessively thinking about Nyx.
And beating myself up about ending shit.
“You know, I’m almost happy to head out,” Raff said, sitting on the counter in the kitchen, cradling a mug of coffee between his hands.
He, his brother, Sway, and Coach had been up late partying, as usual. From the looks of things, Raff was caffeinating instead of sleeping.
“Why?” I asked, reaching for a cup for myself.
Sleep had been elusive the night before, despite being tired down to the bone.
“You’re a mood killer, man,” Raff said, shrugging. “I could barely belt out I Believe in a Thing Called Love in karaoke last night because you were standing there all doom and gloom,” he informed me.
“My nearly ruptured eardrums say you belted it out just fine,” I said, taking a sip of my coffee. “Are you actually itching to get back on the road?”
“I can go either way,” he said. “I like the work and the road, but I like being here too.”
“What about your brother?”
“Oh, you know Riff. Never tells anyone what’s going on in his head. He seems content here, though. It’s good to be around family.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, nodding.
Most of us didn’t have family growing up, didn’t really understand what that was until we formed a club and created our own makeshift family.
The thing was, Riff and Raff were never really around for long enough to really feel like they belonged as well. Or, for that matter, for us to feel like they belonged.
It was good that they were around.
And, honestly, since I didn’t need them on the road, it was best to keep them around for a while longer.
“You’re gonna need to learn to live with my mood. I want you guys around for a while still.”
“I’ll have to rearrange my cal… which Murphy is that now?” he said when there was a knock on the front door.
“Nah. They don’t even bother to knock anymore,” I said, putting down my mug and making my way to the door.
I never expected to find Nyx standing there.
And I sure as fuck never expected to find her beat the fuck up.
Rage flooded my system, making my blood rush through my veins, my pulse pounding, and my hands curling into fists.
All I could think about was getting my hands on the fucker who dared to put their hands on her.
Instead of giving me a name, a face to slam my fists into, though, she said something that had some of the anger falling back behind something else, something softer.
“I, ah, I’m ready to trust you. I need your help.”
I had convinced myself that she was never going to do what I said and come to me.
She was so fucking stubborn.
But, it seemed, things had escalated to the point where she had no choice.
“You have it,” I said, reaching outward, moving slowly, then grabbing her arm and gently pulling her closer. “Come in here,” I demanded.
She was shaking.
And it was almost as if agreeing to help her had made her lose even more control.
By the time I got her into the living room, her whole body was trembling hard.