Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 168587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 843(@200wpm)___ 674(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 168587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 843(@200wpm)___ 674(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
“Lake.” He sighs my name.
I sniff. “But I even fucked that up.”
“What did you do?” He sits on the edge of the bed, his hand coming up and pushing my hair off my face, but I keep my eyes on the comforter.
“I forgot about it. Or maybe I wanted to avoid it.” I’ve been trying to figure out how I could forget something so important. Maybe my mind chose to forget about it because I’ve known that Tyson was the side I needed to choose. “I remembered the night of the fight. I had checked it right before my shift started, and it was dead. So I used Starla’s charger just long enough to get it to come on.” I swallow nervously.
“And?” he asks softly, taking my hand in his.
“It had pictures.”
His hand tightens on mine. “What kind of pictures?”
“Of me and you at the party at the house of Lords. Then pictures of me the day that I went out and had my hair done and bought my car.”
“No texts or calls?”
“No,” I answer, and he lets go of me to stand. “Why would they call or text me?”
“They don’t send pictures for initiation, Lake.”
“How am I supposed to know that?”
“Because I told you that you didn’t have to do one,” he responds tightly.
“Every Lady has to—”
“You’re not every fucking Lady,” he shouts, interrupting me.
“Why am I special?” I yank my hand from his and stand from the bed. “Huh? What have I done that warrants me a pass?”
His jaw clenches, and he looks away from me, refusing to tell me anything, and I let out a snort. “That right there is why I didn’t believe you to begin with because you never tell me anything.”
“The less you know, the better,” he mumbles. “Where is the phone now?”
“I told you, I lost it,” I answer. “I put it back in my locker, went to work, and that fight broke out. I went to go check it my first night back to work, but it was gone.”
“You mean it was stolen.” He runs a hand down his unshaven face. “Who all knew you had it? Just your father?”
I bite my bottom lip and lower my eyes to the floor. He places his fingers under my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Lake,” he growls.
“I don’t want to tell you,” I answer honestly, and I’m surprised he looks more hurt than pissed.
“I need to know because someone has a phone knowing that it’s yours. They can be pretending to be you.”
I didn’t think of it that way. Taking in a deep breath, I whisper, “Bethany.”
FORTY-SEVEN
TYSON
Senior year at Barrington University
“Tyson Crawford?” My name is called, and I look up from where I stand next to Lake holding her hair while she vomits into the trash can. Her shirt now covered in her sister’s blood from making contact with mine.
“Yeah?”
“Tyson Crawford, you are under arrest for the murder of Whitney Minson...” The cop walks up to me and yanks me away from Lake while reading me my rights.
“Wait—?” Ryat tries to jump in, but the other cop pushes him out of the way.
I’m shoved face-first into the wall, my arms pulled behind my back where the cop proceeds to cuff my wrists.
I look over to see Lake staring at me, color drained from her face from just getting sick and tears running down her cheeks. She shakes her head as she sobs, throwing her hand over her mouth.
The cops confirming what she already suspected.
“He didn’t do it!” Ryat shouts. “I was with him…”
“Ryat,” I bark, cutting him off, and the cop pulls me from the wall and grips my upper arm. He’s pulling me through the hospital as Ryat follows us, already dialing a number on his phone.
I sit at my desk on the second floor of Blackout as a knock sounds on my office door. “Come in,” I answer.
The door opens, and Bethany steps into the room. I had her come in early before her shift starts this evening. “You wanted to see me, Tyson?” She practically skips to my desk after looking around for who I can only guess is my wife. But she’s not here tonight. She’s at our home, in our bed asleep. I know this because I just checked the cameras in our room.
“Have a seat.” I gesture to the couch.
She plops down and crosses one leg over the other. Placing her arms along the back of the couch, she adjusts her hips to press her chest out. It’s the exact same spot I fucked her mouth just months ago when Ryat and Blakely walked in on me while I had my cock down her throat.
The thought makes me think of my wife and how I’d never let anyone watch me fuck her. I’ve always preferred an audience. And with Whitney, it was required of me.