Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78237 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78237 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“Kind of like slow down and smell the roses?”
“Something like that,” she agrees with a proud grin.
“Well, then. I’ll have to show you how fun it can be to watch the world pass in a blur of colors. Then we can compare to see which you like better.”
“Fine,” she agrees easily, shocking the shit out of me. “But my way is better.”
I laugh and fire up Ace’s truck, aiming it toward the older section of Angel Harbor. Her duplex is older than some of the others on the block, but the residential neighborhood is nice. And safe.
Kids play on the sidewalks, tossing balls and enjoying a game of hopscotch while a group of older boys take turns doing tricks on their bikes.
“Why did you choose this neighborhood?”
Maven shrugs and smiles wistfully at the kids playing. “It’s a nice neighborhood filled with families and plenty of kids. The whole block feels lively most of the time. Why, what’s your neighborhood like?”
I turn into her driveway, smiling just to have her at my side before I back out and park on the street right out front.
“Play your cards right, and you might find out.” I jump from the truck, but not before I see her roll her eyes with a smile that looks a hell of a lot like affection.
Maven opens the door and hops out easily before I have a chance to open the door for her, and she looks around the neighborhood like an old friend.
“Let’s go,” she says, moving fast toward the front door. Instead of keeping up with her, I take a leisurely pace that allows me to soak up the way her ass looks in denim.
Mighty fucking fine. I smile at the way it curves over her thighs, and I just knew when she turned to the side, it would be the perfect question mark.
“Uh, Wilder?”
I blink and look up. “You caught me,” I admit with my hands in the air.
Maven turns with a frown. “What?”
“Staring at your ass. I admit it.”
“Of course you were,” she growls and nods toward the door just a few feet away. “But that’s not what I’m talking about. The door’s open.”
My body instantly goes into protective mode, and I step in front of Maven as I make my way to the door. “It’s not just open. Somebody kicked it open. It’ll have to be replaced.”
“Kicked it in? Are you sure?” She pushes me aside and only gets one step in before I grab her around the waist and yank her back. “What the hell are you doing?” she barks. “This is my house.”
“I know,” I growl in her ear and hold her a little tighter simply because I can. “But whoever did this shit could still be inside. Stay behind me or go back to the truck.”
Her body goes slack as my words sink in, and she nods reluctantly. “Fine.”
Her hand is on my shoulder as we enter the house, my nine-millimeter leading the way.
“The living room is to the right, and the kitchen to the left,” she whispers.
I nod and turn right, stopping abruptly. “Shit.”
“What…holy shit,” she sighs. “Holy fucking shit,” she says, and this time, I can hear the tears that are still invisible as she takes in the damage. The sofas are slashed to shit with stuffing bursting out of every spot.
The dainty-looking coffee table is broken in half, and it looks like wine or blood was poured over the cream-colored area rug. Someone has shattered photo frames and ripped the photos inside to pieces, but none of that compares to the shit spray-painted and finger-painted onto the walls.
“Whore,” I snort. “How original.” It’s a half-assed attempt to lighten the mood, but it doesn’t work.
“Dead whore is a little scarier,” she says and shakes her head. “But fucked to death is the worst.”
I nod. “Fucking assholes,” I growl because I know this is Nogales’ fucked up message to the Reckless Souls.
“Why,” she screams and buries her head in her hands. “How does a breakup warrant this?”
“It doesn’t, babe. This is how little boys react to having their toys taken away.” I cringe at that comparison. “Not that you’re a toy.”
“No,” she shouts. “Obviously, that’s all I was to him, or else why would he hide who he was from me? Easy,” she answers her own question, “Because I never fucking mattered to him. Never.”
“Or you bruised his ego,” I offer helplessly and make a call. “Gia, I need you to do me a favor. Find out where Cyrus went after he was arrested. Nogales, too. I want to know who bailed him out and if anyone spoke to him inside lockup.”
“When do you need it?”
“Now,” I answer. “And thanks.” I stare at Maven, so damn strong she’s still trying to stop those tears pooling in her eyes from falling. “It’s all right to be upset, Maven. Anyone would be.”