Total pages in book: 260
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
My heart pounds as I take them in, knowing full damn well I’m on probation and that there’s a gun in the waistline of my pants.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“What the fuck?” Finn roars from behind me, and Reed takes Kat by the shoulders, pulling her back as the cops enter. Two continue up the stairs and two stand in the doorway as we each raise our hands in the air.
“We’re unarmed,” Finn tells the two male officers at the same time the pres questions, “Warrant for what, exactly?”
I can’t stop staring at Kat. I’m about to lose her again. In the same goddamn place I did years ago, and she didn’t want to come in here. She didn’t want to do it.
Fuck, I fucking hate myself. Heat flows over my skin. Reed’s look of shock must match my own.
Poor Kat stares up at me as I walk quietly to her with eyes full of terror that dart to my waistline. She knows all too well I never leave unarmed. You never know, in this life, when you might need it. Especially when you’re fresh out of prison with blood on your hands.
After a round of clears the officers lower their weapons. The two upstairs slowly make their way down.
Uncle Eamon holds an expression of near annoyance. “The fuck is this?” he asks and snatches the warrant from the tallest of officers who holds it out. They’re all dressed in their blues and make their way in just as Kat backs up and presses her back into my chest, like she can hide me from them.
My poor hellcat. Regret won’t let go of me as it continues to bury itself deep down.
With both of my hands steadying her shoulders, I’m prepared to tell her I love her and I’m sorry. To whisper it into her ear as the officers ask for identification for each of us and Finn argues that we don’t have to give them that.
Instead I’m met with her hand, reaching up my back and then into my waistband. I struggle to keep a straight face as she takes the gun.
“Unless the warrant–”
“It’s a search and seizure and includes the persons of any Cavanaugh East club members who are on the premises,” the cop who seems to be leading the pack announces clear enough for all of us to hear. Kat quietly slips the gun into her purse and stills, with the top flap of it open as the officers approach us.
“I assume that includes everyone here?” he questions, taking a moment to look each one of us in the eye.
“You’re his son, aren’t you?” the officer asks me, the skin between his eyebrows wrinkling as he narrows his eyes at me.
“Who do you mean?” His son. Anger boils inside of me, this prick bringing up my father when he’s long gone.
“The founder of the club, Ronan Cavanaugh.”
“Yeah, I’m his son.”
“I figured, you look just like him.” His gaze moves to Kat and every muscle in my body tightens. “And you?”
“She’s my girlfriend. I don’t imagine the warrant includes who we’re fucking, does it?” I ask as I lay a hand on her shoulders, moving closer, and closing the flap at the same time as I step forward to muffle the noise.
“I’ll start with you then?” the officer says. He’s got a hard jaw and a clean shave, unlike his partner, whose beard is neatly trimmed and who calls over Reed. Reed stands with his arms out and we both allow the officers to do their job. All the while I watch Reed, who keeps looking at my uncle, who’s waiting his turn for the pat down as the other officers search this floor of the club.
With my own hands held out, the officer frisks me, then grabs my wallet and calls in my ID. I know he can’t arrest me; I don’t have shit on me, but I don’t know what the hell is in the club. There shouldn’t be a damn thing here.
As if reading my mind, Reed glances up at me and shakes his head, letting me know we’re safe as the officer calls in our names, asking if there are any warrants for arrest. Fucking prick.
“There’s nothing here,” Finn states as he takes the paper from the pres and then flicks it. “Fucking harassment from the DA. Search whatever the fuck you’d like, then get the hell out.”
Although the three of us are silent, Finn doesn’t let it go. “The hell is this about, anyway?”
“We received an anonymous tip,” the lone woman officer answers, standing in the doorway. Her makeup is minimal, her hair pulled back into a tight bun at the base of her neck.
I don’t recognize any of these faces. Not from growing up, when I had plenty of run-ins with the law. And not from that fucking night four years ago.