Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 173392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 694(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 694(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
I lean over the table, swiping my hand over the white residue on the glass.
My heart pounds in my ears.
“You son of a bitch,” I whisper.
“He wanted some,” Milo explains.
I tremble. Macon would handle this beautifully. Like a fucking Spartan. And all I can do is swear at him? I want a knife. A weapon. Something.
I swing my arm across the table, sending his cards to the floor, and get down in his face.
Slowly, he rises, and I know everyone in the room is watching us. We stand toe to toe, his eyes cast down at me, only slightly taller as he grins.
And then …
He swings his hand out, and I twist away, rearing back to shield myself from the blow.
But it doesn’t come.
He drops his arm, chuckling as his friends join in and the room fills with laughter.
I drop my hands, steeling my jaw.
“You don’t even know, do you?” he taunts me. “You have all the power in the world. Not me.”
He grabs me between the legs, and I yell, pushing him, but he pulls me in, holding me tight.
“You could stop all of this,” he breathes down on me. “If you learned to use your head, you’d already see that. You have all the power and no clue how to use it.”
What the fuck is he talking about?
“But you were never that bright.” He kisses me, his wet mouth making me gag.
I twist away, pushing him off, and charge for the door. “Mars!” I yell.
With my brother behind me, we leave, but I refuse to give Milo the satisfaction of seeing me run. I grip my brother’s wrist, damn near digging my nails into his skin.
“Krisjen,” Mars says, but it sounds less like he’s trying to slow me down and more like an apology. I’m not even that mad at him, although he knows Milo and I ended things badly. He doesn’t know most of it, but he knows enough, and he never should’ve taken his call or gotten into his car tonight.
But it’s not his fault. It’s mine. Iron was right.
I drag my brother down the stairs and across the lobby, but I hear a male voice behind me. “Ms. Conroy.”
I stop, remembering Clay’s father is here. But when I turn, I see it’s not him after all. Jerome Watson walks up to me from the lounge, every seat at the bar behind him nearly full, and every one of them men.
He looks at me with a gleam in his gray eyes, and I keep my hand on my brother’s wrist. I wish it were Clay’s dad.
He stops, his white shirt wrinkled but still tucked into his black suit pants. His tie and jacket are probably discarded somewhere in the bar. He smiles, only a few dark blond hairs out of place at his temple. Still a full head of hair, though. At least there’s that.
“I missed you at church this morning,” he says.
He glances at Mars and then reaches into his pocket, pulling a twenty and holding it out to my brother. “Here, why don’t you get a snack?”
But I push Mars toward the door, handing him my keys. “Paisleigh’s in the car. Wait for me there.”
He casts a worried glance between Jerome and me, but he does what he’s told. I face the older man again.
His lips curl into a smile. “Your TikTok was cute.”
I arch an eyebrow. He has TikTok? Yay.
He inches closer, and while I would never back down from Milo, I have no problem backing up from this guy. I retreat a step.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he tells me. “I hope you’re going to be the one who knows me best.”
My tongue feels like sandpaper. I don’t want to get to know him. He looks at me, and I feel like I’m naked. I know what he wants. I know what my mother is promising him. I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do. That’s a fact.
But it’s also not a solution.
He lowers his voice. “May I see you sometime?”
I open my mouth to refuse, but then I close it again. What had Milo said? You have all the power in the world. I don’t know what he meant, but I’m sure he meant something.
Jerome Watson is connected to everyone capable of making and breaking the Bay.
Before I can dwell too long, I hear myself tell him, “Maybe.”
Maybe he’ll be useful after all.
He smiles as he cups my cheek. But he doesn’t kiss me.
He walks back into the bar, and I wipe his touch off my face as I leave the club.
Rafe opens the door for me, and I head out into the middle of the driveway. Mars sits in the passenger seat, playing on his phone, while Paisleigh’s dark form is still passed out in the back seat.