Total pages in book: 331
Estimated words: 315585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1578(@200wpm)___ 1262(@250wpm)___ 1052(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 315585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1578(@200wpm)___ 1262(@250wpm)___ 1052(@300wpm)
He shifts in his seat, bringing the car to a stop, and I see that he’s parked back by my bike. I glance over at him, and he’s staring out the windshield as if he can’t look at me.
“Why are you helping her?” He said they’d had sex, but is it more than that? Does he love her? Or is he just wanting her to lie low for now so she can keep working for him? Either way, it has to be for his benefit.
Adam swallows before glancing at me. His eyes are void of any emotion when he speaks. “I know what it feels like to be framed when you’re innocent. I had someone help me. And I can only do so much. After our talk the other night, I know you’re that someone for her.” With that, he looks back out the windshield, and I know it’s all I’m going to get.
I shut the folder and set it on his lap. When I close the passenger door, he pulls out, and his taillights disappear down the curvy two-lane road.
My phone lights up as Haidyn calls me, helping me spot it in the dark night. I pick it up out of the bushes, ignore the call, and pull up my Spotify. “Follow You Home” by Nickelback fills my ears as I try to figure out how I’m going to make the pretty blonde become my prisoner. Because I know she will not come to Carnage willingly. She’s too independent for that.
I’ll have to force my angel to live in hell.
TWENTY-ONE
KASHTON
Ireturn to Carnage a couple of hours later. The ride did nothing but fuck me up more. The way the men talked about Eve and then the conversation I had with Adam…it’s giving me a headache.
At least Saint and Haidyn quit blowing up my phone.
I need to talk to them in person. Fill them in on what’s going on. I can’t just bring her here without giving them a heads-up. Especially if Ashtyn and Eve have a past. Adam said they weren’t friends, but will Ashtyn recognize her? If so, how will that go down? I haven’t been a fan of Ashtyn since she shot my brother. We put too much trust in her, thought she was one of us, and she betrayed Saint. I see that as a betrayal toward all of us. My brother loves her, and I respect that, but I don’t have to accept her.
The moment the elevator door slides open in the basement, “Hallelujah” by No Resolve hits my ears, informing me that Haidyn is in a mood.
A quick look at my watch tells me it’s a quarter till four in the morning. He’s down here later than usual. Pushing the plastic strip curtains out of the way, I come face-to-face with Saint.
“Good luck.” He nods to me, walking by.
“What’s going on?” I ask, turning to face him.
“He’s been down here for two hours with that song on repeat.” Then Saint disappears, walking toward the elevator.
I continue through the basement and pass the pits, headed to the hallway where the cells are. I come up to the fourth on the right and see the door open.
The song blares from the concrete room. My brother’s bloody white T-shirt is wadded up on the floor while he stands in the center with a lit cigarette between his lips. Hudson lies on the floor, curled up in a ball, soaking wet with blood covering his trembling, naked body.
“Haidyn?” I call out.
Reaching up, he removes the cigarette and turns to look at me. He appears calm as can be, and that kind of scares me a little. I’m not sure why. I’ve seen my brothers throw some temper tantrums and fuck shit up. But this is…different. He arches a brow at me.
“Everything okay?” I shout over the music.
Bringing the cigarette back to his lips, he takes in a drag, the end glowing in the darkly lit room. Once done, he flicks it down onto Hudson. He whimpers when it lands on his neck, and his hands flail to push it off. The man has no eyes. Haidyn ripped them out after he bragged that he watched videos of Haidyn fucking Charlotte. I would have done the same.
“Yeah, why?” he asks as the song comes to an end.
“Just wondering.” I glance at my Hublot. “It’s late. Or early…”
“We’re having a good day, aren’t we, Hudson?” He kicks the bastard in the stomach, and he rolls away, cradling his arms around himself in a protective posture.
The song starts once again, and Haidyn removes the pack of cigarettes from his jeans, lighting up another one.
“Haidyn?”
I spin around to see a sleepy-looking Charlotte standing outside the cell in the hallway, wearing a T-shirt, cotton shorts, and a pair of fuzzy pink slippers, her heavy eyes on her husband.