Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82349 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82349 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“Please,” Liam says, rolling his eyes. “We don’t even know for sure it’s my kid.” My hands flex into fists, but I try to keep my cool. “For all I know, she spreads her legs for everyone.” I don’t even think before I grab his shirt in my hands and yank him toward me. He’s taller than I am, but he’s lanky whereas I’m built like an ox thanks to the time I spend in the gym lifting weights.
“Let him go,” my father says, getting up and coming over to us. “This is exactly what she wants,” he hisses. I let go of my brother and turn to look at my father.
I hope he sees the hatred in my eyes. “You think she wants anything?” I ask him. “You think after you threw two hundred dollar bills in her face that she would want anything to do with you?” I laugh.
“Well, then I see she told you all about it,” my father says, and he puts his hands in his pockets. “She signed an NDA.”
“Who the fuck cares what she signed? She gave birth to your grandson. Does that not even register in your head?” I say, my voice getting louder. “How can you do that?”
“Oh, please,” Liam says. “If you ask me, she got the better end of the deal.” He walks back to his drink and takes it down in one gulp. “She wasn’t even that good.”
Yup, whatever control I had has snapped. I charge over to him, and my fist flies before he can register what is happening and falls back onto the couch. “You hit me!” His hand comes to his nose that is now pouring blood. “You broke my fucking nose!”
“Be happy I didn’t break all your fucking teeth, you worthless piece of shit,” I hiss, then turn to my father, who looks shocked by my behavior. I’ve always been the calm son. The son who did what his father said and never asked questions. “And, you.” I look at my father, shaking my head. “You’re even worse than he is.”
“Tread lightly, son,” he orders me. “I would hate to have to do something that you would regret.”
“Fuck you,” I tell my father, and he just glares at me. “You think you can stand in front of me and threaten me?”
“She is in default of her NDA agreement,” my father says calmly, thinking he has an ace up his sleeve.
“Good. Fucking sue her then. Let the whole fucking town know that my drunk and sorry excuse of a brother fathered a good kid. That she blackmailed you”—I point at him—“into keeping her silence. I’m sure the town would love to hear all of the secrets that you have buried in your closet, Father,” I say with disgust. Before I can say anything else, there is a knock on the door.
“Come in,” I say, looking at my father. “This is my office after all.”
When the door swings open, Jacob stands there, and I can see the rage on his face. “Savannah’s bar was vandalized,” he says, and I turn to look at my father, who stands there saying nothing.
Chapter Six
Savannah
I knew something was off the minute I got out of Jacob’s truck and saw the two potted plants that I keep beside the door tossed over. “What the heck?” I say, getting out of the truck and walking through the gravel parking lot. Only when I get close enough to the front of the door do I see the red spray paint.
TOWN WHORE
“What the fuck?” Jacob says from beside me. I look over at him, then I see what looks like a broken window at the end of the bar. I bought this bar seven years ago. It was half the size and in disrepair. When the owner asked for ten thousand dollars, I knew he didn’t even make that in revenue that year. But I saw things he didn’t, and I had a plan for the small twelve-by-twelve bar. He sold the land to me for an extra ten thousand and thought he was robbing me blind. But little did he know that five years later, I would be raking in close to half a million dollars a year, and that my country bar would be the place to be.
I take the keys out of my pocket and unlock the big blue door, gasping when I open it. “Oh my God,” I say, stepping in.
All the bottles behind the bar and the glasses have been smashed on the floor. The stools that sit in front of the long bar are tossed over and all over each other. The wooden tables look like they’ve been thrown around. I take a step in, and the sound of glass crunches under my cowboy boots.
“Don’t touch anything,” Jacob says. He walks to the side, taking out his phone and calling Grady, his second in command. “Yeah, get the crew together and meet me at Savannah’s bar.” He listens and then looks around. “It’s been trashed.”