Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 101001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 505(@200wpm)___ 404(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 505(@200wpm)___ 404(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
“Better?” she asked with concern bleeding from her tone.
That worry, that hint she knew he’d been struggling snapped him straight out of the dirty fantasy and back to the cold, hard, shitty reality. “The fuck you talking about? I’m fine.”
She pressed those pouty lips together then shook her head. “Don’t do that. Please. No more games. Not tonight. Tomorrow you can go back to hating me but be real with me tonight.”
Be real with her? What? Tell her how he got her brother killed? How he wasn’t strong enough to fight back? How he came out of that godforsaken desert with more screws loose than a rickety table?
He stood and met her with the bars between them. “Don’t be so dramatic, princess. My attorney’s here now. Why don’t you take your fancy ass back home and let someone who actually contributes to society take over?”
Anger flashed in her gaze. He could literally see her hackles rising. And he was a sick man because all that fury only made him want her more. Christ, if she let all that passion out to play in bed, she’d be a goddamn animal.
He smirked, waiting for her to rip into him. Their typical interaction. Maybe foreplay were they any other people.
But she squared her shoulders and gave him a sad smile. “It doesn’t work,” she said. “Pretending to be okay all the time. Eventually, the truth catches up to you. And it seems like it’s been chasing you pretty hard for a while now. Stop running, Scott. It’s easier that way. Trust me. It’s not pretty if it catches you on its own.”
He gripped the bars hard, refusing to allow her words to penetrate the steel he’d reinforced his skin with. Who the hell did she think she was? And what the fuck did she know about anything? “I don’t need a spoiled, pampered—”
“Mr. Hughes, Ms. Truitt.” The attorney’s heels clacked on the floor as she marched over. “I’m sorry about the tremendous inconvenience of this shoddy police department’s handling of what happened tonight.” She spoke loudly, so the cop would hear her. He scowled from the desk. “We’ll have you out of here as soon as the paperwork is complete.”
She turned to Olivia who’d stepped back. “I’m assuming you want to press charges on the man who assaulted you?”
Fuck. With all the bullshit happening in his head, he’d forgotten what got his ass tossed behind bars in the first place. Now that he looked at Olivia with something other than lust or frustration, he could see the toll the night had taken on her. Light bruising on her neck spoke to the incident he’d been lucky enough to fucking interrupt. If he’d had it to do over again, only thing he’d change would be how hard he’d hit that Dante fucker. Next time, he’d make sure the guy couldn’t get up.
Ever.
“Absolutely,” Olivia said with a nod. She wrapped her arms around her belly.
Scott frowned. The move made her smaller, meeker than he’d ever seen her, and it didn’t sit right. Olivia wasn’t small. She was bossy, superior, and fucking exuberant.
“Great.” The club’s attorney held out a card. “Give me a call tomorrow, and we’ll get the ball rolling.”
“Thank you.”
With all she had at her disposal, wouldn’t she have her own attorney, or fuck, even a team of attorneys who could make Dante’s life a living hell? Why would she use the club’s?
“Great. Let me put a fire under the officer here so we can get you home and sleeping in your own bed.” With a grin, the attorney turned and strutted her way back to the desk where Officer Stache worked, filling out papers.
“Olivia, go home,” he said as Brooke and Curly approached the cell.
“I’ll take her.” Brooke wrapped an arm around Olivia’s shoulders. “Come on. You’ve gotta be exhausted.”
“Yes. I am.” Her voice held a note of sadness it hadn’t had when she’d spoken with him. Maybe even disappointment. Well, she could join the club because that’s exactly what he was to himself as well. One big giant disappointment, and if she thought he was going to cut himself open and bleed his emotions all over her or anyone, she was insane.
Curly stopped them from leaving with a hand on Brooke’s arm. “I’ll hang around and take Scott back. See you at home, baby. Don’t wait up.”
Brooke smiled at him. “You know I will anyway. Love you.”
“I love you,” Curly said before kissing her the way he always did, with passion and hunger. No pecks on the cheek for those two.
Olivia watched them with naked longing on her face. It only lasted a second or two before she caught herself and averted her eyes.
Scott frowned. Did she want something like Curly and Brooke had? He sure as hell never considered it for himself. Who the hell would put up with his issues?