Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 72122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Little fucker.
He needed to go fuck himself.
It wasn’t his brother’s job to do the dirty work, and I wasn’t stopping until I either got an apology or was kicked out.
And lucky for everyone here watching the show, he would never offer me an apology.
Because offering an apology would be admitting that he’d fucked up, and Kenneth Lee Reacher didn’t admit when he was wrong.
Which was always his downfall.
And me, Truth Alan Reacher, well, I was going to make sure he saw the error in his ways.
Chapter 2
Sadly, I’m all out of damns. However, if you’re interested in a flying fuck, I have a few.
-Verity’s secret thoughts
Verity
I didn’t want to be here.
In fact, I wanted to be here about as much as I wanted to have my left nipple placed in a nipple clamp and twisted right the hell off.
But nobody asked me what I thought.
Nobody cared that I didn’t want to be a witness at the wedding I was currently attending.
The wedding that I’d painstakingly planned, and then was told two weeks ago that I was no longer needed as the bride, because, you know, brides are apparently interchangeable.
Oh, but my mother had kept the account, because she was a businesswoman after all.
Money was money, honey.
The sound of my mother’s annoying voice made my hands clench.
Then the man started talking, and the breath left my body.
Not because he took my breath away, but because he said what I was thinking.
“Fucking slut.”
My eyes snapped up and over, and it was then I saw the man that I’d walked in beside two hours before.
No one at this entire wedding looked like they wanted to be here less than me. Except that man. He looked like wanted to be here nearly as much as I did, which was not at all.
This tall, dark, and dangerous man with his brown hair buzzed clear down to his scalp, and those stunningly bright green eyes that looked like they could see straight down to my soul.
Then there was the scruffy beard framing straight white teeth, not to mention his tattoos.
An entire sleeve of tattoos extended down his left arm, starting at some point I couldn’t see beneath his black t-shirt, and trailing all the way down to his wrist where his big ass Luminox watch rested. A watch that I knew cost a whack because I’d bought my father the same one last year for Christmas.
He also wore it wrong, too. Like my dad. He had the watch face on the inside of his wrist, so all he would have to do to check the time was turn his palm to face him and he’d be able to see it perfectly.
According to my father, it took a whole lot less effort to check the time.
Not that I’d ever disagree with him, but at the time I’d thought he was weird.
Now, seeing it on this man, I realized that maybe it did take less effort.
“Ummm,” I finally tore my eyes away from his mouth. “What?”
The muscles in his arms flexed as he turned only his head to face me…yeah, those muscles were just icing on the cake.
“I said, ‘Fucking Slut,’” he repeated. “The bride. She’s a fucking slut.”
I blinked, then I nodded in understanding. “Why yes, yes she is.”
I would know. I’d walked in on her husband to be, now my ex fiancé, and her fucking on my bed. On my family quilt. Next to my goddamned cat. After the dress fitting from hell. And after he told me the engagement was over, but apparently I needed a visual.
The man’s mouth twitched, and I had the weirdest urge to run my fingers through his magnificent beard.
“What’s your name?” he asked, breaking into my thoughts.
“Verity,” I answered immediately. “What’s yours?”
He smiled.
“Truth.”
“My name means Truth,” I informed him.
“I know,” he answered. “That’s why I smiled.”
“Two peas in a pod,” I shrugged.
He snorted. “So…did he cheat on you?”
He gestured toward the groom, who was busy feeding his new wife a piece of the cake that I’d picked out.
“Yes,” I replied just as bluntly as he’d posed the question. “In fact, that’s my wedding cake that they’re eating. Oh, and that wedding dress? Also mine.”
He turned sharply to stare at me, trying to figure out if I was being serious or not.
“Then why the fuck are you here?” he asked.
I sighed.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Not now. Not when I could potentially break down and cry in front of that asshole.
He didn’t deserve to see my tears.
“How about I take you for a ride on my bike, and we find somewhere to fuck?”
My mouth dropped open.
“And then you can tell me what that asshole did to you, and I’ll share what the slut did to me.”
I nearly choked on the air I inhaled, if such a thing were even possible.