Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
“She’s not a fucking outsider. She’s one of us—a King.”
Kitty shakes her head, holding her hands up in surrender. “His words, not mine. You both know how I feel.”
“And what did you tell him?” Callan asks.
“That she’s one of us. Saved Cutter’s life for Christ’s sake.”
“It’s fine. He just woke up. He needs time to adjust and get to know me,” I interject.
The elevator jolts to a stop, and the doors open with a ping.
“It doesn’t help that your sister shot him.” Kitty winces as we exit the elevator.
“Well, she’s dead, so he’ll have to get over it,” I snap. My throat closes. My jaw tenses, sending shooting pains up my cheeks.
“Let’s not discuss our business out in the open,” Callan warns. We all fall silent until we reach their dad’s room.
“I want to get up,” I say as we stop outside the door.
“Is that wise?” Kitty asks.
“I’m not injured, and I want to be on my feet when he sees me.”
“He’s in a hospital bed unable to piss by himself, you think he gives a shit if you’re in a wheelchair?” Callan states. I bristle at his tone and stand, grabbing my IV. Continuing to ignore him, I push into the room, dragging it along with me.
“You look super strong carting an IV along with you,” Kitty mocks from behind me. I know how ridiculous I must sound, but Jericho is a man of influence. He’s beaten down right now, but soon, he’ll be out of here and back at the compound. I don’t want him seeing me as some poor damsel. I’ve been through too much to allow myself to feel powerless. With my shoulders back and my spine straight, I approach his bed, all my bravado dissipating the moment he opens his mouth.
“What the hell is the bitch doing back in here?” Jericho sneers. Callan tenses beside me, and I halt my advance, resting a hip against the edge of the bed. The fluids and food are already making me feel much better.
“I want to hear what happened from your mouth, not Kitty’s.”
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He moves to shift in the bed, and Callan stops him with a hand on his shoulder. The fluorescent lights cast a tinged glow over his skin, highlighting the heavy bags under his eyes.
“Dad, she’s my ol’ lady,” Callan states, matter-of-fact, folding his arms. “And I need to hear it too.” There’s a similarity between these two that’s undeniable, but Jericho’s brown eyes aren’t alive like Callan’s. There’s just darkness.
“I told you, the Devil’s pres asked to meet. I had some time, so I called him.”
“So, the meeting time and place was spontaneous?” Callan asks.
“Yes. I don’t trust those fucks. The little prick had been trying to get in with us like his old man did years ago.”
“Were you actually interested in working with him?” I ask, confused as to why he would even entertain the idea.
“I weigh up everything. And the reward should always offset the cost when it comes to business. I don’t trust that slippery bastard as far as I can throw him, so no”—he jerks his chin toward me—“I wasn’t contemplating it.”
“The only place he’s getting thrown is off a damn cliff,” Callan growls. A wave of unease courses through me. So much has happened between Tyler and me, but there’s also a long and complicated history. I don’t think I could stomach watching him die.
“So, why meet?” Kitty asks, even though she’s heard the story already.
“He kept going on about a shipment worth half a million coming into one of our docks by mistake. I was curious.”
“It arrived last week,” Callan informs him. “Contraband. Not even two hundred grand worth.”
“Like I said, I don’t trust the slippery snake.” Jericho’s lips turn snow white as he presses them together. “I didn’t believe his story of a fuck up with the docks either.”
“Who was with him when he came to meet you?” Callan asks, stealing the question straight from the tip of my tongue.
Kitty drags a chair from the corner of the room, scraping the legs against the hard floor. A shriek of metal on tile blares through the room, and I cringe. All eyes shoot to her.
“Sorry.” She winces, showing her teeth, before sitting her ass in it. “Carry on.” She waves her hand in the air.
“I thought he came alone.” Jericho flits his gaze to mine, his eyes narrowing. “Out of nowhere, this kid jumps out the back of his truck and begins screaming at me like a banshee on crack.” My fists clench, pulling on the IV. “I was caught off guard. The bitch was wild, came straight for me and started attacking.”
“Why didn’t you stop her?” I take a step closer. Even in a hospital bed, riddled with holes, weak and fragile, he dwarfs the room. He could have easily overpowered her.