Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
“Tell me,” he growls.
“Yours,” I hiss. “I’m yours, you son of a bitch.”
Gage laughs again and suddenly pulls out, flipping me over onto my stomach. The sheet twists under my knees, a burn against raw skin. He drives back in, faster now, knuckles digging into the back of my neck to hold me down.
I love it. Hate it. I think about Kael, about the soft way he touched my body, and then I arch my back so Gage can go deeper. When I cum, I do it with a broken scream of pleasure that I can’t explain.
Gage follows close behind me.
His growl of pleasure sends shivers down my spine.
Then, he is gone, and I am left with that cold, empty feeling again.
We don’t say anything. There isn’t anything to say. The only thing that matters is that he’s marked me. For tonight, at least, nobody else gets a fraction of me.
He reaches over, taking a cigarette and lighting it.
I push up on my hands and knees, staring at him.
“Where were you tonight?”
He is asking, but I fear he already knows.
I can’t say it, though.
Can’t admit it.
I’m afraid if I do, he will lose it.
“I found a bar in town. I didn’t want to be here. Not after everything.”
“You don’t ever fuckin’ leave after an attack, you hear me?”
He’s acting like he cares.
We both know he doesn’t.
“Can I ask you something?”
He inhales deeply, not answering me, but not telling me I can’t either.
“Why are you with me, Gage? Why did you come for me all those years ago? It’s clear you don’t love me, so why?”
He considers the words for a long time, then brings the cigarette to his lips and gives me a quiet look.
“Truth? You’re the only person in the world who ever looked me dead in the eyes and told me I was a monster and got in the car with me anyway. You don’t run from the shit in people, even when you should.”
He’s not looking at me when he says it. He flicks the end of the cigarette into a chipped mug on the nightstand, then rubs his jaw. “I’m not a nice man. World burned that out of me before I could spell my own fuckin’ name. But you keep tryin’ to see good in things that got no business having good in them. You see it in me. I hate you for it, and I fuckin’ need you for it.”
I stare at his chest, the tattoo with my name scrawled in black, and all I can think is how little sense any of this makes, how a man could love you so hard and still never be able to say it.
He looks at me, really looks. Then he looks away. “You want cute answers, go to Hallmark. I got nothing for you except alive, and I can only promise to keep you that way until the ride stops.”
“Then why don’t you let me go?”
His eyes pin me. “Because you’re mine, Sabie. That is never going to change.”
That’s what I fear the most.
6
I stare at the row of cars, and my eyes widen.
Gage’s entire business is scrap and salvage. He gets truckloads of scrap cars, strips them down and sells the parts, or fixes the cars and sends them on their way. I know it is a front, I know that the club hides guns and drugs in the cars so they can move them around. Usually they weld secret boxes to the frames or come up with other clever ways to hide them, so even if they are pulled over nothing is found.
This, though, this is far, far bigger than a few small guns and drugs.
This ... is dangerous.
This ... is big time.
In front of me are boxes of sniper rifles. I know them, because my one unfortunate skill is that I am incredible with a gun. When my father was alive, he raised me shooting, and I always had an eye for it. After he died, and I was left to my drug addict mother, it was my only escape. Sometimes, I wonder if it’s part of the reason Gage keeps me around. Not only am I helpful in a heated situation, I know my way around a gun.
I hate to admit that I have done more than my fair share of long-range shooting for the club.
Death doesn’t scare me like it should.
Gage reaches down when I don’t say anything. He yanks a gun up, turning toward me, a cold, long, shiny black weapon—beautiful, but dangerous. So fucking dangerous. These are long range sniper rifles and wouldn’t have been easy for him to come across. They’re not something that most people could get a hold of.
“What the fuck is this, Gage?” I whisper hiss, shaking my head.
He doesn’t miss a beat. “It’s money, Sable. It’s a fuckin’ fortune. Bigger than anything we’ve ever done.”