Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Travis snorts and I laugh. “I think Marcus is free.”
Jasmine grins. “Oh yeah?”
“Over my dead fucking body,” Chief snaps.
“Oh, poo! You always ruin my fun,” she teases.
He shoots her a look; she gives it right back.
“Mom and Chief are getting married next month,” I tell her. “They just decided.”
Jasmine turns to them. “Congrats, you two, that is awesome.”
“I need two bridesmaids,” Mom says.
Jasmine looks touched and her eyes water. My chest warms. Mom doesn’t have to care for Jasmine, but she does. She loves Chief, and that means she loves Jasmine. That’s just the kind of person she is.
“Big, ugly green dresses for us,” I joke.
Mom scoffs. “Hey, give your old mom some credit—I have good taste.”
“We trust you,” I say, hugging her one more time. “I’m off to bed. Love you guys.”
They hug me, then Travis and I leave. Back at his place, he pins me against the wall and kisses me. “Best night of my life.”
I smile. “Mine too.”
“Hey, what’s that?” he says, letting me go. There’s an envelope on the carpet by the door. He picks it up, opens it, and his face goes pale.
“What is it?” I ask, taking it from him.
I read the handwriting and my heart seizes. Shivers ripple across my skin, and my hand flies to my mouth. Another note from his obsessed stalker.
I told you, I warned you, but you didn’t listen. I won’t ask again. Watch your back, Violet, because you may just find a knife in it.
“We need to call the police,” I say, my voice thick. “This is too close to home now. Something needs to be done.”
He nods and pulls out his phone and dials them. He has already made a report, but this time, he isn’t messing around. Both of us don’t feel right about these notes, and it is beginning to scare me. What if there is someone out there, just waiting to hurt me and it isn’t just an obsessed fan?
An hour later the police arrive, ask a heap of questions and examine the note. On their way out, an officer stops in front of us. “It’s hard in these situations to know who’s behind it. Travis is a rockstar, and unfortunately this happens often. We’ll check fingerprints, security, phone records at Phoenix Records, but can’t promise anything. If anything comes up, call us immediately. I recommend you stay with family as much as possible until we can figure out what is going on.”
When they’re gone, I turn to Travis. “Are you sure you don’t know who this is?”
“No, I truly don’t, but I am going to be paying a lot more attention moving forward. I’m going to call Chief tomorrow and get eyes on our house at all times. The club will cover us. I’ll figure this out, baby. I promise you.”
I put a hand on my stomach. “We have so much to lose now.”
He glances down, then back to me. “I won’t be losing fucking anything. I will find who is doing this, and I will stop it.”
I hope so.
Because if whoever this is gets to me first, things could go very bad.
“Ohhhhh,” I groan, leaning against the kitchen counter, my eyes locked on the stack of golden-brown pancakes sizzling in the cast-iron skillet. The sweet smell of melted butter and maple syrup drifts up, but all I taste is something that resembles metallic blood.
Travis stands at the stove, spatula in hand, flipping each pancake. We decided to come have breakfast at Chief’s, because we didn’t have any eggs or flour, and I didn’t feel like going to the store. This was our compromise, and I’m glad, because my mom is here and she always knows how to make me feel better when I am fighting this hard to keep the contents of my stomach down.
Travis chuckles at my pitiful groans. “Poor baby,” he teases, turning with a grin. “Being pregnant really sucks, huh?”
I fold my arms across my chest, the waistband of my leggings pressing against my already swollen belly.
“That’s an understatement,” I mutter, my voice thick with fatigue.
He offers me one of the pancakes on his spatula. I shoot him a half-hearted glare.
“You wanted them ten minutes ago,” he prompts. “You sure you don’t want to try some?”
“Who I was ten minutes ago isn’t who I am now,” I huff.
He laughs.
A sudden commotion breaks through the peace. Raised voices and footsteps on the porch. I glance at Travis, and his brows go up. Chief’s deep voice carries through the front door, followed by another voice I don’t recognize. Whoever is out there has got Chief unhappy. We make our way out of the kitchen door and step out into the morning air. The porch is wide and wooden, its planks bleached by years of sun. Chief stands rigid at the top of the steps, his broad shoulders squared, facing an older couple—Lillian and Jeremy’s parents.