Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 77961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“I don't think he ever believed that I'd do it. He fucking laughed at me when I closed on him. It was the first time I fought back and the last thing he ever did. I hit him over the head as hard as I fucking could, and he dropped like a popped balloon. Mom screamed for me to stop, but I couldn't. I just kept hitting him and hitting him and hitting him until I could barely recognize his face. There was so much fucking blood. I thought they were gonna lock me away for sure.”
“I don't—” she starts.
“Shh. Let me finish. The whole thing was a blur. My brain fucking checked out, but Mom took over. After taking his shit for years, she cleaned me up, told me to follow her lead and then wiped down the handle to get my prints off and I’m pretty sure got in a hit of her own before she called 911. When they came, she confessed to the whole thing. And I sat there and let her.”
“You were fourteen! Of course you let her. She was protecting you. Just like you're protecting me. If it was your child, wouldn't you have done the same?”
“Yeah. Probably. No, fuck, of course I would've. I lived with some relatives who I’d never seen before in my life while she was in prison. He messed her up pretty bad before I got him, and his reputation was well known. The courts believed it was self-defense but ran her in for excessive force. Probably because his face was mulch. But that was my damn fault too.” My fists are so tightly clenched they hurt. Now I'm just waiting for the moment where she realizes how fucking trash I am.
“Is she out now?”
“Yeah. She only served a couple years and she’s got a little place out in the sticks now. We don't talk much. I think we remind each other too much of what happened. Not just the end, but the whole fucking time. Like your Mom, cards for birthdays and Christmas. Mine's lucky, she can do both with one.”
She squeezes me even harder. “I can't imagine. It must hurt so much to carry around those memories.”
“What do you mean? I don't think you get it. I fucking killed my own father and let my mother go to prison for it.”
“You were a kid! It was self-defense. He was hurting your mother. That's not your fault. You did what you could, but there was no winning solution there. She knew she would get more sympathy and didn’t want you to have to live with that on your record. She wanted to give you a future.” Getting up on her knees and leaning in, she places a kiss on my lips. “Diesel, I don't hate you.”
Fuck. “I—”
“Diesel!” I look up past Rory to see Hawk waving at me from by the gate. “There's a guy here called Mason, asking about your girl.”
Rory stiffens, then pushes herself to her feet. “Mason? It's got to be about Dad.”
Dad? Fuck. I chase after her. “Not without me.”
She stops just long enough to smile back at me, even if it's a little sad. “I'm counting on it.”
25
RORY
Mason waits patiently for me outside the gate, in his dark suit and scrolling on his phone while the guards keep an eye on him. Hawk and… Reaper, I think the other one is called. There are too many faces and names to know everyone yet.
“Can you let him in?”
Hawk shakes his head. “Against orders. Eagle-eye is still pissed about the whole threat to our security thing.”
Mason glances up. “Rory! Good, I was getting worried.”
“What are you doing here? Why isn’t Dad answering his phone?”
He looks past me at Diesel, then over at the bikers coming out to see what's going on. I recognize Bull right away, with Shrapnel right beside him. “Is there anywhere we can talk in private?”
Hawk gestures to the other end of the gate.
Mason rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to hurt Ms. Whittaker. I’ve worked for her father for years.”
“And I’ve lived this long because I don’t give a fuck,” Hawk spits out.
“Fine,” Mason growls.
We move to the far end of the gate, Mason on one side, and Diesel, Shrapnel, Bull and me on the other.
“I’d feel better just speaking with you, Rory,” Mason grumbles. “Your father’s business doesn’t have anything to do with them.”
Shrapnel crosses his hands over his chest and glares at my father’s security guard. “I disagree. Rory is our business, so if you need to speak to her, we’re gonna be there.”
“Whatever it is you can say it, Mason. They know everything. I had to tell them about Hermes so they could help me set up for the second demonstration.”
Mason doesn’t look happy about that, but just nods. “We’ve kept it quiet, but there was another attempted attack on your father this morning.”