Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Problem is, our bodies are used to the party schedule,” Croft admitted. “So… we’re up.”
“Up and watching… documentaries?” I asked, glancing at the TV.
“One of the club girls gave us homework,” Croft said, shrugging. “We’re not far in if you want us to restart it.”
So we ordered delivery from the local diner… and watched a fucking six-part documentary until Cain suddenly reached for the remote and paused the TV.
“What is it?” I asked, tensing when I saw him stiffen.
“Think I heard a car door.”
“At this hour?” Croft asked, making me glance at the clock.
It was late as fuck.
If this was one of the parents or princesses, shit was serious.
Cain got to his feet.
Spike reached for a gun on the end table.
I started to stand.
The front door opened.
And there was Carmen.
Beaten to shit, cradling her arm, eyes frantic.
“Jesus Christ,” Cain hissed.
I was on my feet and across the room in the span of a breath.
“Baby…”
She threw herself into me, a sob catching, then breaking free as my arms went around her.
“It’s okay,” I said, trying to give her a comforting squeeze without hurting her, since I had no idea where she might be injured. “You’re all right now.”
Her hot tears wet through my shirt as I turned to face my club brothers, seeing their matching masks of concern and confusion.
I locked eyes with Spike—our resident first aid guy, since he had a stomach of steel for even the gnarliest of injuries. I mouthed ‘first aid kit’ and watched him rush off to get that.
Croft got up to grab a box of tissues, placing it on the pool table beside where we stood.
When she was finally out of tears and sniffling hard, I reached for some and handed them to her.
“Let’s sit down,” I suggested, leading her over toward the couch and carefully pressing her down. “What happened?” I asked when her head finally lifted.
If possible, I’d swear she looked worse than she had just fifteen or twenty minutes before.
There were bruises all over her face. Her eye was swollen, her lip fat, and there was some dried blood from cuts on her cheek.
But the way she was cradling her hand was what had me the most concerned.
“I was sleeping,” she said, voice so small that she needed to clear her throat and try again. “And I heard someone on the stairs. I… I tried to get to my gun in the drawer where you put it.”
I could feel Croft, Cain, and Spike’s gazes on me, their minds likely full of questions. But they’d have to wait.
“But they were fast. He smashed my hand in the drawer. Then… then he threw me on the bed.” My stomach tensed. “And they handcuffed me and bound my ankles. Put duct tape on my mouth, so I couldn’t cry out.”
“Sofia?” I asked.
“Road trip.”
“Okay. Good. What happened then?”
“The one threw me over his shoulder. And I knew… I knew I couldn’t let them take me. So I threw myself off his shoulder. He fell. I fell.” With her arms and legs bound and no way to brace herself, that had to be a hard fall. I had a feeling her whole body was black and blue. “Then I started slamming my feet into the wall to wake up Chip.”
“Good. That was smart.”
“He came eventually and… I think he shot both of them. But they ran.”
“And you came here.”
“After I dropped Chip at a hotel.”
“That was smart. Did you see the guys? Would you be able to describe them?”
“They were all in black and had bandanas over their faces.”
“Alright. That’s fine. We’ll still try to figure it out. Did they say anything?”
Her brows pinched. “One of them said that they weren’t supposed to hurt me… yet.”
“So there was someone else in charge. Did they say any names or anything else that might be helpful?”
“They didn’t say much. It was over so fast.”
“Do you think it was those brothers?”
“No. Chip said he spoke to them and they were offended that he thought they would try to shoot up innocent women because they were mad at him.” She paused, looking uncomfortable.
“What is it?”
“Chip was wondering if maybe this wasn’t about him. Or me. If maybe it was about you.”
“About me?” My knee-jerk reaction was to insist that no, there was no way. The thing was, though, there was a way, wasn’t there? I had a past. The club also did as well.
“That maybe they thought we were, um, dating. And they wanted to use me against you.”
“I guess that’s possible,” I agreed. “We’re gonna need to do more digging about that. But right now, I really want to make sure you’re okay. This is Spike,” I told her, half-turning to gesture to the tall, black-haired biker. “Is it okay if he looks at you?”
“He’s a doctor?” she asked, brows lowering.