Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 182641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 913(@200wpm)___ 731(@250wpm)___ 609(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 913(@200wpm)___ 731(@250wpm)___ 609(@300wpm)
I brought us all the way to the back, on the edge of the old building my bosses have been talking about fixing up.
“Why don’t we let the Grecos tell us how we ended up here?” a dude with freakish white-blond hair pipes in.
“I want to know how this guy got into The Game Room.” The one at his side, I’m talking really close to his side, disagrees.
“This ain’t your spot, homeboys. What you want don’t mean shit.” Hayze pops a beer, pointing it forward before taking a long drink.
“You should watch how you talk to them,” a soft little voice adds, but I don’t look.
In my peripheral, the dudes she speaks of shuffle closer, drawing Hayze to his feet.
“Why not, gorgeous?” he goads, taking small steps toward her.
“Watch yourself,” one warns.
“Or what?” Hayze fires back.
“Or I’ll cut your skin from your–”
“How many times you fuck her?”
The conversation cuts, all eyes flying to me when I speak, but mine haven’t left the handsy motherfucker. Not once.
The dark-haired girl’s cheeks bubble up with a laugh she tries to hold in, the other princess’s jaw hits the dirt, and Rocklin’s eyes close for a long second, or at least that’s what I got from the corner of my eye, ’cause I’m not about to look away.
He needs to answer.
“How many times?”
He shakes his head, looking off.
I jump down, temples tic, tic, ticcing. “I asked you a question.”
“She can answer if she wants to.”
“Don’t be a little bitch.”
The charge in the air zaps stronger, and he darts forward, offended like a weak little prick, more so when I meet his single step with two of my own.
Rocklin moves between us, her front to me, and she yanks my head down by the tips of my hair. My eyes don’t stray from the pretty fuck behind her, so she shifts some more, blocking him from my view.
I glare.
She glares.
And then I realize with us this close, her chest touching mine, her ass has gotta be touching him.
I whip her around, backing her up until her knees hit the crates.
Her eyes flare, desire brimming, but still, she hisses nice and low, “Not now. Get this done.”
My hold on her tightens, jaw clenching. My eyes stay glued on my girl, but I speak to the others. “Which one of you had the bright idea to come here?”
“Both,” the brothers answer in unison.
I just discovered the “brothers” part tonight, but it makes sense. They’re the same height, same build, dark hair and dark eyes to match, only one’s skin is a single shade lighter than the other’s.
“How did you find out about this place?”
Don’t say my pretty little thing, or I might have to—
“A contract girl.”
Rocklin rolls her eyes, and a frown builds over my brow. Reluctantly, I release her, moving to lean on the crate at her side.
I face forward, looking into James Bond’s eyes when he glares from her to me before meeting the brother’s gaze who’s closest to me. “And that is?”
“A chick we vet, hook up with for a while, and then let go of.” The one with the knot on the side of his head shrugs. “She ditched us one night, said she was going to an event, so we followed her to make sure she wasn’t meeting up with someone else. Led us here.”
“Who was she?”
“I’d have to look it up. Been a couple months now,” he says.
The other one adds, “Name was white girl basic. Chelsea or Clair or something.”
Chelsea, Clair …
No …
I raise a brow, guessing, “Chloe?”
I feel Rocklin look to me, but I stay focused.
“Yeah. Daughter of some guy our guardian knows. That’s how we met her. Went with Sai on some security situation, and he told us to wait outside. Wasn’t long before she pulled up in a little red convertible.” He smiles and his brother looks to him with a matching one. “Remember that one time—”
“I know who she is,” I cut off their bullshit. “Is she the one who told you to ask me if you could fight here?”
Oh, Blond Boy doesn’t like the sound of that, he’s all beefed up, pulling the dominant card on his little soldiers—facing them head-on, chin lifted.
The one with the broken rib lifts a finger. “That was my idea.”
The way the other one snaps his head his way tells me he’s covering for his brother. I’d bet he’s the oldest.
“Kenex,” says Rocklin, and then she points to the other. “Kylo.”
Kylo is the one I brought out. The odd fucker grinned at me when I put my blade against his chin and climbed in the car like it was nothing.
“You did all this, showed up in our space, took one of our people, cut into our government-grade security surveillance because he asked you to fight?” Blond Asshole clips.
I run through my brain for this punk’s name, replaying every word from mine and Rocklin’s conversation, if you could call it that, and come up with it.