Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 132892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
“You all right?” I asked. She nodded, refusing to look at me.
“Yeah, just a rough night,” she said, her voice familiar. It was Sadie—the same little bitch who’d ratted me out to Talia at the apartment building. Fuck. She’d gone into a back room with half the club, and now she was here. Not good.
“What happened?” I asked, wondering why I cared. She’d caused me a hell of a lot of trouble. But this didn’t sit right—the Reapers were supposed to be controlling our support clubs and she was just a kid.
“Guess,” she said, sniffing as she burrowed her head deeper into her arms.
“Things got rough with the boys.”
It wasn’t a question, and she didn’t bother answering.
“You need to leave this club behind,” I told her. “Talia’s not your friend, Sadie.”
Her jaw tightened. “I’m not ashamed of myself.”
“Never said you should be. But you’re obviously not happy, either. The Nighthawks aren’t good for you—none of those men will ever treat you with respect, or make you his old lady. Get out while you still can.”
Sadie scooted away from me, still refusing to look up. “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”
“Sorry to waste your time,” I said, running a hand through my hair. Fuck it. So much for doing the right thing. Still, I didn’t like leaving her this way. “Let me know if you change your mind. Might be able to help you, okay?”
She didn’t answer.
“Hey, Coop! You out here?” a man’s voice shouted.
“Yeah,” I shouted back, heading around to the door. One of Marsh’s newer hangarounds—Rome—stood waiting for me.
“Marsh needs to talk to you,” he told me, swallowing and glancing back toward the clubhouse. I raised a brow in silent question. “This isn’t right, Cooper. You saw how strung out Marsh is? Now he’s saying we all have to stay with him today. I’m supposed to work. I can’t afford to lose my job over this.”
“Stick close to me,” I said. “We’ll see what we can figure out.”
Rome looked relieved, although I wasn’t quite sure why. Not like I had any fuckin’ power in this situation. I didn’t know much about him, but he was young and I got a decent vibe. Like Sadie, he’d fallen into something way over his head. We headed back inside, where things were getting even more fucked up. Marsh stood in front of the door, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at everyone in the room.
“Nobody leaves,” he announced. “Not until I find the traitor.”
That didn’t have a good ring to it. Rome cleared his throat nervously, and Marsh’s eyes snapped to us.
“Cooper was out back,” Rome said. “Wasn’t trying to sneak off, Marsh. Just getting some air.”
Marsh nodded sharply. “We gotta talk, Coop. Chapel. Now.”
Then he pulled his semiautomatic out of his shoulder holster, holding it casually as he glanced around the room.
“Nobody leaves. Nobody talks. Do not fuck with me.”
He started walking across the room toward the chapel, men jumping out of his way so fast one of them fell over. I followed him into the small room, noting the two brothers at my back. One of them shut the door as Marsh raised the pistol, pointing it at my chest.
“You got somethin’ you wanna tell me?”
TINKER
Saturday morning was . . . unpleasant.
That’s because I’d drunk more the previous night than I had since—well, since Margarita’s bachelorette party. Now I had the hangover from hell, except hell wasn’t really a strong enough description. I had the hangover from whatever was worse than hell. Justin Bieber concert?
I blamed Margarita for this.
Devil woman.
Every time we went out together, I got drunk and made a fool of myself. Not that last night hadn’t been a lot of fun. The three of us girls had closed the bar down, dancing until our feet hurt, shouting slurred song requests at the band. Joel bought me drinks between every set, and by the end of the night I’d decided to go home with him after all.
Then he’d pulled out some pictures of his kids, including an adorable baby girl not much older than Tricia would’ve been. Sexy, flirty Tinker dissolved and I ended up telling him all about Tricia’s death, ugly crying all over his shirt.
Big turn-on, right?
To his credit, Joel took it in stride, listening to what I had to say without making it into a thing. Then he’d offered me a ride home, walked me up to my door, and gave me a very sweet, very platonic kiss on the forehead.
So much for raging passion.
Now it was the next day, and because God is cruel I’d gotten a rush order from a caterer in Bellevue. This was good news financially but bad in terms of production capacity. Fortunately, Randi agreed to help me, and I recruited Mrs. Webbly to keep an eye on Dad.
Things would be groovy once the fucking Tylenol kicked in.