Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 105506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 422(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 422(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
I narrowed my eyes on her. “And I’m not letting you tear me open to show my insides to the country.”
She pulled back her shoulders. “Is that a threat? Because I already had a visit from the Sons of Templar. They don’t scare me.”
A smile stretched my lips. She was lying. Hades most definitely had scared her. But not enough. “That’s okay, they’re a lot of bark and definitely a lot of bite,” I shrugged. “They wouldn’t hurt you physically, though.” I stepped forward toward her.
She took a measured step back.
Smart.
“They would ruin you in other ways, your credit, your reputation, all that.” I waved my hand. “But you probably figured out all that.” My eyes slid up and down her. She was wearing sweats but expensive ones. Same with her jewelry. “You’re an Ivy League girl,” I deduced. “Probably come from money but are out here trying to prove to Daddy that you didn’t need to join the family business or marry one of his buddy’s sons in order to matter.”
Her mouth tightened, telling me I’d hit close to home.
I stepped forward again. There was a TV behind her. She had nowhere to go.
I got close enough to smell her Jo Malone perfume. “The Sons of Templar won’t hurt you … physically,” I repeated, relishing in the fear in her eyes. “They have a code.” I leaned forward. “But I don’t,” I whispered.
She was holding her breath. Trembling.
It was a high, making someone feel like that. A nasty one. One that highlighted things I didn’t like about myself but a high nonetheless.
A dark urge told me to take it further, to really hurt her. I resisted that, stepping back.
“I don’t have a code,” I restated. “So if you don’t back the fuck off and forget my name, I will make you swallow your teeth. That’s a threat.”
On that awesome—if I did say so myself—last remark, I left the room. Before I actually hurt her. The verbal lashing was somewhat cleansing, but my fists ached to do something. I wanted to draw blood.
It didn’t surprise me to see a bike at the curb and a biker on the sidewalk when I stepped out the door. I was thankful he hadn’t arrived any earlier. I didn’t need him for an audience. That was something I had to do on my own.
“Don’t worry, I’m done,” I told Colby, closing the front door as he ascended the steps to the porch.
His expression was tight, guarded. His eyes scurried over me, taking stock before he looked behind me. “Mind if I go in?” His voice was even, but his posture was coiled like a spring.
“What?” I asked innocently. “Do you think I killed her?”
“No, poppet. I know you gave her a tongue-lashing that made her forget her own name, ’cause I see it in your eyes.” His gaze softened on me but turned murderous again when it crept once more to the door. “Tempted to have a few words myself, just to ensure the message was received.”
My pulse spiked. “Why? You don’t think I did the job well enough? Don’t think I can take care of myself?”
It was a relatively stupid question considering everything that had happened in the past.
“I trust you did the job well,” he sighed. “But I also want to have some words of my own.”
Of course, he did. He had to make sure he made his mark. Though he had his code, I was concerned about the anger that was radiating off him. I didn’t need Emily finding any more reason to look into the Sons of Templar MC.
“Let’s go,” I pulled at his arm instead of continuing the conversation.
He planted his feet, looking at me as if he were scrutinizing my mental state. Little good that would do.
I didn’t wait on him. Instead, I walked to his bike, getting on.
“You don’t get on this bike, I’ll drive myself,” I warned, dead serious. Colby had been teaching me how to ride. I enjoyed it. Almost enough to get a bike of my own. But that would’ve meant my main mode of transportation wouldn’t be pressed up against Colby. Plus, there were a whole lot of outfit and hair limitations.
Colby looked from me to the house, weighing his options. He wanted his pound of flesh. But he wanted to be near me too.
Colby paused for one more second before quickly striding to the bike, shooting me an annoyed yet concerned glare.
“To the club please, sir,” I requested in my most hoity-toity accent.
Another glare. But his lip twitched.
Then he took me to the club.
Colby had no choice but to follow me when I got off the bike and marched inside. I knew he was pissed off, but that didn’t matter. I had a purpose. Plans. And I couldn’t pause lest I bitched out.