Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 76736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“Of course.” She takes off like her ass is on fire. Meanwhile we run to where she pointed.
King's in front, but he stops suddenly, holding his arm out. “Watch out. Cops.”
We slow down. With our cuts on, no one's ever going to mistake us for anything other than members, but as long as we don't draw attention to ourselves or get too close, we should be able to see what's going on, at least.
“There she is.” Wild Child points. He's right. Coming out of the swarm of cops with her father's arm around her shoulder, the two of them talking like it's fucking normal.
“Hawthorne,” King rumbles like a volcano about to blow. He's got more reason to hate than any of us, and his hand drifts towards the piece in his belt.
“King.” Wild Child puts a warning hand on King's forearm. “There's too many.”
“What the fuck?” I shade my eyes with my hand to see better, like I'm not really seeing what's happening. My heart sinks. “Why the fuck is he here? And why are they walking off together? She doesn't look forced.”
“Something's fucked. Real fucked.” Wild Child frowns as Hawthorne opens the door for his daughter, and she slides into the limo with no sign of resistance whatsoever. “Why is she going with him? Why would she get Janey to help her out? Why is she fucking leaving us?” That last is heartfelt, but we all fucking feel it. And we all want to know what the fuck is going on.
But when Hawthorne's limo pulls out and drives away, followed by several police cars and a black van, all we're left with are questions.
32
EMILY
Home.
That's not what this place is to me anymore, but it's what I'm apparently supposed to think of it as again. It's just the three of us again.
Me.
Mom.
Dad.
Oh, and a crapton of security guards around the property. Of course they're there to keep anyone from coming onto the property, especially a bunch of angry bikers, but it's just as much to keep me in. I don't even think we're pretending anymore.
“I'm disappointed, Emily,” Dad says, his voice dark and ominous. He's furious. Gone is his congenial public face as he brought me back to the limo. I've messed up his plans pretty hard and he's not happy about it. “This is not how you're supposed to support your father's political career. Do you know how much it's going to fucking cost me to quiet those reporters? What the fuck were you thinking?”
I used to think the bikers were the monsters, but they've got nothing on Dad. I know that now.
“You called me dead, Dad,” I snap at his back as he paces away from me. I have a right to be angry too.
He whirls to face me. “What was that? Are you speaking back to me?”
As usual, Mom's keeping to the background, sitting on one of the extremely expensive Scandinavian design chairs in the corner. She's watching us, looking unhappy and scared. Uncomfortable.
Good.
She should be. This is her husband, chewing out her daughter for not complying with his scheme to announce her dead and leave her in danger as he attacks the bikers who kidnapped her. Now, if she'd only take some sort of action, instead of just feeling bad about it, that'd be nice.
But if she won't, I will. I've learned that much while I was gone.
“I'm not just going to let you walk over me anymore, Dad. Yeah, I've come home. I'll be your little politician's daughter, but I'm not going to just take your dumb accusations while we're at home. You can be as disappointed as you want, but I'm done trying to change for you.”
Mom covers her mouth with her hand, her eyes gone wide with shock. I have never spoken back to Dad like that, and I don't think I've ever heard her do it either.
The guys would be proud of me now, I bet.
Dad, though, he doesn't take it well. He swells with anger, and if I thought he was mad before, he's one step away from having literal steam pouring out of his ears. He takes a step towards me, and I drop into my defensive stance. If I can take down Janey with it, I'm sure I can deal with Dad too, right?
Instead, he laughs. “What the fuck is this? You think you can take me? You're going to actually try to fight me? Those motorheads have filled your head with shit. You had it good here, and then they steal you away, fuck you like the little slut that you are and then turn you against me? I'm going to level that fucking hideout to the ground, and I'll take personal pleasure in putting a bullet in the back of the head of every one of those fuckers who sullied my little girl. Now come here, before I come get you.”