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 whip around, locking my eyes on Green Jacket Guy, and his widen. I know what comes next. Everyone paying attention does.
Green Jacket tries to make a fucking run for it. He spins … right into Hayze, his throat wrapped up in Hayze’s eager hand.
Hayze stares up at him, his eyes dead and cold as he shifts, so the dude is facing me again, now forced to watch.
I bend down, take my knife from my pocket, and cut the protective tape from Moyer’s hands. I look up at Jennings, another guy who works out here, and lift my chin.
He dumps a bucket of water over Moyer’s head, and the fucker gasps himself awake.
It takes him a moment to remember where he’s at, and panic flickers across his face.
He knows he threw this fight like he threw last week’s, just like I know the guy in the green jacket pulled up in a black ride … Greg Moyer in his front fucking seat.
His eyes go wide, and then he screams, jerking in my hold as I snap his pinkie backward until his knuckle is flat against the back of his hand. And then I do the same thing to the middle finger and, lastly, his thumb. He doesn’t fight, doesn’t ask what I’m doing or why.
He just jerks and shakes and cries like a bitch, accepting his punishment, knowing it could be far worse … that it will be if he fights me.
I don’t tell anyone why I did it and I don’t stick around to see what Hayze will do to Green Jacket, but I know it will be worse than what I gave to Moyer.
Serves the fucker right.
A snake can’t slither into a wolf’s den and make it out in one piece. We will sniff it out, and then we’ll take you out. Forgiveness doesn’t exist here—reason number one my mother is nowhere to be fucking found; she ran right out of town with no word of where she went.
Bet she just fucking loves that, never having to look the son she fed to the devil over and over and over again in the eyes.
Wherever she is, she’s probably rebuilt a new life by now. Working at some fast-food joint and going home to a shitty but clean apartment without a care in the fucking world. No hungover husband to nurse, no kids to keep her awake with their cries for help that won’t come.
I will find you, Mother Dearest.
I roll my shoulders, blocking that shit out. Tonight ain’t about the past. My energy is boiling beneath my skin, begging for the release it didn’t get. I almost wish Moyer would have fought back, but a bitch is a bitch, so I knew he wouldn’t. My work for the night might be finished, but I haven’t yet.
So I nod my goodbye to my boys and slip out the hole in the gate. I pull my headphones on, slide my hands in my jacket pockets, and off I fucking go.
Might have to steal me a ride, but that’s all right.
I’ll pick a decent-looking car with a pile of shit under the hood, and if the night goes well, I might even torch it after and let the owner get a nice little insurance check as a thank-you.
Yeah, that’s what I’ll do.
Ready or not, Rich Girl, here I come …
Chapter 6
Rocklin
Sai bypasses the first-level parking garage, now completely empty, and as we near the outer edge, rolling over the track grips, the back wall slides left, and we enter the underground lot.
Standing just outside the double door is a fresh wave of shiny brown hair … and a perfectly placed bow tie.
As Delta and I step out, the girl stands taller, stretching both her arms out in front of her, a black suit jacket hanging from her fingertips.
“And the glass?”
“Mixed in with the dozens of others, likely already being polished and restocked.” Valley, one of our Greyson Society hopefuls, stands tall but chews her lip anxiously, her shoulders relaxing when I give a slow nod.
Delta sighs like a proud mother and folds the coat over her arm right as her men, Ander and Alto, appear. Delta and her boys head inside, and I follow on her tail, but just before I enter, I pause, turning back to our newest recruit.
“Back left pocket.”
Her brows furrow and I lift one of mine.
She jerks, catching on, and hastily reaches into her back pocket, her eyes widening when she pulls out the glittered key card, her personal ticket to The Devine lounge here at The Enterprise. She looks from it to me, a smile taking over her features.
“You earned it. Keep doing so.”
She understands what everyone afforded the opportunity to join us does—there is no cementing of status for prospects. We give when earned, we take when taken advantage of. What kind of power would our coveted coed crew hold if we didn’t?