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)
Despite myself, I giggle. Okay, I can do this. I wet my lips and put down the piece of paper with what I want to say, hastily scribbled down and never rehearsed. At the same time I'm so sure of everything that I don't even know that I'll need it.
“My father, Mayor Hawthorne, is not a good man, nor an honest man, and I am living proof of both of those things.”
Except for the occasional insulted outburst from Dad, just as quickly quelled by King, I tell everything. All that I wrote, and more, things I never thought I would admit in public. About his lies, his belittlement, his mistreatment, everything. Dad always said that therapists were a waste of time and money, but finding the words and saying them all out loud is more liberating than I'd ever imagined.
My eyes sting, my throat chokes up, but I keep going, laying out every horrible thing dad has done, and how he has used me to gain acceptance for this ridiculous war of his. I show off my bruises while Hero growls angrily behind me, and then Mom does the same thing. The room buzzes with talk, and many of the bikers, who are also hearing this for the first time, like Viking and Bear, are glaring daggers at Dad while resting their hands on their belts. I manage not to completely break down on the stage, but there's wetness on my cheeks. I never wanted this. I just wanted to grow up with some semblance of a normal life, but it took a bunch of dangerous bikers to show me what that could look like.
“Thank you for your time.” I take my notes and crumple them up into a ball. I don't know exactly what this will do, but if Dad really can keep going after me exposing all of this on live TV, then I don't have any faith left in humanity.
“You did awesome,” growls Hero.
Maybe he's right, but I'm a quivering ball of nerves that really needs to be somewhere else for a while. It was good to get all that out, and to make the world aware of what a horrible person Dad is, but I never realized how exhausting it would be, even with the support of the whole Screaming Eagles club as they watched out for me.
“Okay, but I want to go home now.”
“Home?” asks Wild Child?
“Yeah. Home. With you guys.”
Only a few minutes later, and we're leaving downtown the way we entered. The guys argued about who got me next on their bike, but today I feel like there's something extra special between King and me, and our backgrounds, so I chose to ride with him again, clinging to him and pressing the side of my face against his back. On his cut, his icon is a simple crown between the Screaming Eagles logo and his name.
I let him drive me home with the knowledge that I'll never have to go back to Dad's estate again, now that I've found a home with real men who truly love me, and that for the first time in my life, I might actually grow to be happy.
43
EMILY
“Oh my God, I can't believe I just did that.” When we burst in through the door at the clubhouse, I'm still jittery with excitement and disbelief. “That was insane!”
“Fucking awesome, you mean. Here or at the city hall, you're still the boss bitch,” says Wild Child with a solid dose of admiration.
“It was good,” agrees King. “Here's hoping something real comes off it. I still think it would've been better for all of us if I'd just put a fucking bullet through his skull.”
Hero just swings me up in his arms and kisses me. His powerful embrace is the comfort I need right now, and I melt into him.
When I finally come up for air, Wild Child is tapping my shoulder. “I'd like some of that.” With a laugh, Hero passes me over, and I get to melt all over. As always, Wild Child's kiss is playful, a collection of kisses, really, before he slips his tongue into my mouth. I play with his tongue stud while we make out.
King doesn't even ask. Wild Child's and my lips are still barely touching when he pulls me to him and twists me around so he can cradle the back of my head with one hand, while I'm basically sitting on his other arm, and pull me against him. Rough and primal, he doesn't just kiss my mouth—he claims it for himself with a possessiveness that's breathtaking.
I'm jittery again, but now it's for a whole new reason. I'd never expected to meet a man who could make me feel like this, and now I suddenly have three. It's going to kill me one day, but what a way to go.