Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
“All I want you to worry about is doing what I tell you. Just until this is over.”
She frowned and the spark of temper that flickered in her eyes made me hard all over again. “I know you didn’t just say that.”
“Relax, baby. I only meant that you know he will do everything in his power to manipulate you, and you already admitted he’d been successful in the past. You let me take control over this if you don’t have the power to not do what he wants. That’s all I meant.”
“But I can deal with him myself.” I saw her resolve, but also her longing. She wanted to take me up on my offer but didn’t think she should. So I decided I was just gonna have to play the bastard.
“Sure, you could.” I leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose after turning off the water and reaching for a towel to dry us both. “Unfortunately, you don’t have the authority to make any decisions here, and I don’t have the authority to give you the authority.” I did my best to not show my amusement. “And I always respect authority.”
She snorted a laugh before her entire body relaxed and she sagged against me. I dried her before giving myself a quick swipe with the same towel. Picking her up, I moved back to the bedroom. I sat on the chair in the corner of the room with Ellie in my lap and tucked a blanket around us both.
“You good?”
She nodded mechanically, then shook her head. “No. Not really.” Her fingers twisted in the blanket. “What time is he supposed to arrive?”
“Noon.” I reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll give you this one time to make a decision regarding your dad. You don’t have to do this. We can call it off if you want to.”
“I do, though.” Her voice was small but determined. “I need to face him. To see if there’s anything left of the father I knew, or if all this is just another lie.” She glanced away. “I know what I’m expecting, so I’m not gonna be disappointed.”
I swallowed my objections. This wasn’t about what I wanted -- it was about what Ellie needed. Even if what she needed might tear her apart. “Then I’ll be right beside you. Every step of the way.”
Her smile was fragile, but real. “Thank you.”
We dressed, then headed to the main common room, the only building we intended to give Tate access to. Also, Knuckles was serious. He’d assigned two teams to the bastard. Tiny and Noose during the day, and Inferno and Griffin in the evening. I didn’t anticipate any niceties on Knuckles’ part either. We agreed we wouldn’t tell Tate exactly what Kiss of Death was.
I guided Ellie outside, the October air crisp against our faces. “You don’t have to stand at the gate with me,” Ellie said as we crossed the courtyard. “You can wait inside.”
I gave her a look that made her lips twitch despite her anxiety. “Not a fucking chance. One more suggestion like that will have me tellin’ Knuckles to eighty-six the whole mess.”
“You really can be bossy. You know?”
“Been told that a few times in my life.” She might grumble, but I saw the way her shoulders relaxed. She wasn’t free of anxiety, but I thought knowing she didn’t have a say in what was going to happen took a load off her mind. Like it gave her permission to not feel bad or something. If that was the case, I’d make it clear up front to Tate Blackheart there was nothing she could do to influence if or how long he stayed in our home.
We sat under the covered entrance outside the main warehouse. I’d given Ellie a beer and encouraged her to drink. Knuckles and Gunnar both stood casually near the clubhouse entrance. Several other brothers lingered nearby, pretending to work on bikes or shoot the shit, but I knew they were all on high alert.
At precisely noon, a yellow taxi appeared at the end of the long drive leading to our compound. My muscles tensed as it slowed to a halt before the gate. Through the windshield, I could see the driver’s nervous glance at our clubhouse, clearly wondering what kind of fare he’d picked up who needed delivery to a biker compound.
The back door swung open, and Tate Blackheart emerged. My first thought was that prison hadn’t touched him. He stood tall and straight. His silver hair was styled in an expensive cut, not a strand out of place. He wore a tailored navy blazer over a crisp white shirt, pressed gray slacks, and shoes so shiny I could probably see my reflection in them if I got close enough. Which I had no intention of doing unless it involved my fist connecting with his face.