Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 71632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
I stand, flexing my aching wrists. “Just don’t tell them why. I’m going to bring her in here, and I want them to see also just how wrong they’ve been.”
Scarlett nods. “Okay.”
“Thank you,” I say to both of them. “For believing in me.”
Scarlett steps forward when I stand and hugs me. “I trust my gut, and my gut told me there was something off. You’re not a thief, Saskia. Not even close.”
So, if Scarlett could believe me, or even feel slightly off, then how in the hell didn’t Mason?
I get it. He saw it clear as day.
But did he, not even for a second, after everything we’ve been through, think that maybe something wasn’t quite right?
That something didn’t add up?
Anything?
Anything at all?
~21~
SASKIA
Scarlett manages to get me out of the clubhouse using a back door and a back gate. She assures me she’ll deal with Malakai and Mason and will come up with something. I tell her I’ll find Yolanda and get her here as soon as possible to prove to everyone just how wrong they are. And then I flag down a cab and take it straight to my sister’s apartment.
When I arrive, I use some leftover cash I had in my pocket from earlier to pay the man, who looks at me with an expression that says he was doubting if I had the money or not.
I scowl at him, and then I walk up to the front door. I bang on it at least five times, but no one answers. No. She’s not getting away that easily. Not today. Not ever. I can deal with a lot, what I can’t deal with is her purposefully putting me in danger. She’s my sister, and as little as that clearly means to her, should mean at least enough that she doesn’t try and actually get me hurt.
If those bikers were any less than they are, I wouldn’t be standing here right now.
I’d probably be being tortured. All because of her. A girl who is supposed to call herself my sister.
I bang and bang, but no answer. Frustrated, I decide to try and open the door, but it’s locked. She isn’t here, of course she isn’t. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to find a way to get in, because dammit, don’t mess with a pissed off Saskia. She cost me the man I was falling for, the club’s respect, and put me in danger. I walk around the side of her house and check every window.
Stupid girl left the bedroom window slightly cracked. Grinning, I push it open with a good deal of effort. No wonder she left it cracked, it’s half seized. She probably didn’t bother to even try and unsieze it for her own safety. Fine by me. I’m going to see if she was also stupid enough to leave anything in there that I can give back to Mason. Probably not, considering she’s money hungry. She’s probably already on her way to exchange it for cash, which terrifies me.
Because then I might not be able to get it back.
I climb into the window and land on the faded yellow carpet. I’ve only been in this house once to help her move in six years ago when things were bad but not awful. I was trying back then, still trying to see the good, still trying to be a sister and have some sort of relationship with her, but it was as close to useless as could be. So, I gave up, because, well I guess I’m selfish like that at times.
I’m not going to put in effort where effort is not wanted.
Not considering there are a thousand people in the world that could use that effort.
And she is not one of them.
I walk into her room farther and scrunch up my nose at the mess strewn about everywhere. It’s scattered all over the floor, clothes and shoes, both clean and dirty. It stinks in here. How can she live like this? Worse, how does she expect to attempt to raise a child in this? It’s despicable.
I kick the clothes around, and then I start digging around, looking through drawers, under her mattress, anywhere I can think that she might hide something valuable. But then I think, my sister is stupid, she’d likely Google where to hide something before actually using her brain. I think about suggestions Google might offer, such as the freezer, and make my way to the kitchen and start digging around there.
Nothing.
I think harder. If I had my phone, I’d Google it myself, but I don’t, so I have to think of the kind of places they suggest to hide things where a thief would not look. I go to the pantry and start emptying out the contents of plastic containers, tipping pasta and rice all over the floor, and then, it comes out. It’s the coffee container sitting at the back, filled with coffee. I tip it out, not giving a crap about the mess I’m making, and out comes three rings and a necklace. I drop the container and reach down, picking it up.