Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“He’s one of mine,” he says.
“That’s not the answer I am after, and you know it.”
I hear some rustling and a door close before he starts talking again.
“He thought she would never leave him, and he went crazy when she did. Now that he’s found her again…”
“Because you fucking told him!” I accuse angrily.
“He had a right to know!”
“She’s my woman, Striker. So you better make him disappear and never return. Or you take his patch, and I end the fucker now.”
“I don’t answer to you,” Striker snarls.
“And I don’t let anyone touch what’s mine,” I bite back, then hang up on him.
CHAPTER 43
Posie
Ilower the bat and open the door. Dutton looks like a flustered mess. “He’s here,” I squeak, hating the vulnerability in my voice. Dutton’s gaze lands on my face, and a raging storm swirls in his gaze.
“Did he hit you?” He drops to his knees. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here, Mostriciattola.”
Tears well in my eyes as I drop to my knees in front of him, confused as to why he’s the one apologizing.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I say, raising my hand to cup his cheek.
He shrinks into himself. “If I hadn’t brought you to that party, none of this would’ve happened. I knew Striker would be there, and I knew you had some connection to that gang, yet I didn’t understand the consequences.”
My eyebrows furrow. “What? You did this?” I snap, shoving him.
“I’m so sorry.”
I stand, towering over him. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? He’s threatening to take me to court, Dutton!”
“He doesn’t care about Bentley,” he says quickly, getting to his feet. “Let me help you.”
I scoff. “Help me? Dutton, you’ve made it one hundred times worse. And for what? Because you wanted to flaunt me in front of your parents? You risked my son’s safety.”
He looks ashamed as he says, “Please, Mostriciattola, let me make this right.” He reaches out for me, but all my rage springs to the surface. It’s flooding over me, and I can’t stop it.
I throw the bat at him, and he blocks it. I grab an umbrella leaning by my door and throw that, too. Every backward step I take, I find something new and throw it at him as the fury grips me like a vise.
“I know. I know. I know,” he says miserably.
“You don’t know shit!” I scream, my hair snarling into a wild mess as I throw things and cry and curse, my heart breaking. I don’t want to run anymore, but I feel no less trapped. And I know it’s not Dutton’s fault, and I hate that he lets me take my anger out on him. That he’s willing to let me take this out on him because he feels like he deserves it.
I did that once.
I crumple to the floor and sob. Then he’s in front of me again, sitting with me in the middle of the living room as I cry because I can’t do this anymore. I want to look after my son. But I’m struggling not to let this man in. I want to depend on him, but I don’t know if I can trust him. Or myself.
“Posie, tell me what I need to do to fix this,” he begs.
“You can’t fix this, Dutton,” I say with a sob. “He was always going to come.”
Why? Why did he have to come when I finally thought I was getting ahead?
“Mommy?” Bentley’s voice comes from the hallway. And it snaps me out of my thoughts immediately.
“Hey, baby,” I say, turning my face to wipe away my tears. The living room is a disaster, and I’d completely snapped, forgetting to be quiet. Damn, I’m a shitty mother.
Dutton is moving, and when I look up, he’s blocking Bentley’s view of me. “Let me put him back to bed, and then we’ll talk,” he says, and it floods me with both pain and relief. It was painful to know that I must look so fragile right now to him. And I was relieved that he understood I didn’t want my son seeing me like this and that he was here to pick up the pieces.
“Hey, Bentley. Sorry we woke you up. I tripped and accidentally broke some things,” Dutton says as he picks up Bentley.
“Oh. Did you hurt yourself?” Bentley asks, still half asleep and rubbing his eyes. They round the corner and walk down the hallway, and my shoulders sink. Fuck, I really screwed up this time. I glance around the living room and at the open front door.
I sigh, walking over to close and lock it. When I do, I’m startled to find Eli standing there with his arms crossed over his chest.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
He side-eyes me and then pointedly looks back at the street. I notice the twins waiting in a car parked at the curb. “I wasn’t going to stand here for long. I didn’t want to interrupt, but I wanted to be close while the door was open.” And I realize then that, like Bentley and I are a package deal, this family of Dutton’s, although dangerous, comes packaged with him. His silvery gaze flicks back to me as he says, “He loves you, you know. Even when he struggles to say it, he’ll risk everything for you. And although I don’t know where your mind is at with everything, I hope you can accept him for who he is. Because I’m terrified he’d go as far as to try to fit into a mold you shape for him if it meant he could be by your side.”