Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Especially now Mal is standing in front of me, his face tight, arms crossed, asking me, “Where are they?”
Where are who?
“I didn’t stutter, Scarlett. You have four seconds, tops, to tell me where the fuck those drugs went from your bus, before I lose my shit.”
Mal is scary when he’s angry.
Shame fills me.
They know.
How the hell do they know?
“H-h-h-how do you know about that?” I stammer.
“We’re not fuckin’ stupid,” Maverick barks. “We know about your lying, fuckin’ cheatin’, actions. Now answer the fucking question.”
Oh. God.
He’s angry at me.
He thinks I betrayed him.
Lied to him.
I guess I did...didn’t I?
“You don’t underst-”
“Don’t have time for your bullshit fuckin’ lies,” Maverick roars so loudly I flinch, and stumble backwards, “save it for someone else. Now. Tell us where the fuckin’ drugs went?”
“I...I...I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?” Mal demands, arms still crossed, eyes still scary.
“If you’ll let me tell my side of the story, I can-”
“Answer, Scarlett!” Maverick barks, and tears burn under my eyelids.
He doesn’t want to hear what I have to say.
Of course he doesn’t. This entire club probably thinks I’ve been using them, and helping Treyton this entire time.
They won’t let me speak.
To tell my side.
Fuck them.
Fuck them to hell.
“He put them in the bus,” I say, my voice stone cold. “He was going to get them when I arrived here, in Denver. Last night, someone stole them. I don’t know who.”
“Have you heard from him?” Mal asks, voice rough, and scratchy. Gone is the friendly man I’ve come to like.
“No,” I whisper. “I was scared. I was going to wait until I came home, and I was going to come to you, and tell you about it. I can see now why that would have been a bad idea.”
“Save your pity party for someone who gives a fuck,” Maverick snaps.
It burns.
His eyes are cold, but mostly, they’re broken. I’ve hurt him. After everything he’s been through, after all he’s endured. I’ve hurt him.
He thinks everything we’ve shared has been a lie.
He’s wrong.
Dammit.
So wrong.
Mal turns to Maverick. “Get her, we’re takin’ her back to the club house. Lock it down until we find Treyton. If he didn’t take the drugs back out, someone else has them, and he’s goin’ to be comin’ after her.”
“We should fuckin’ let him,” Maverick says, his voice cold, and my heart explodes. Pain unlike anything I’ve ever felt courses through my body.
It hurts like hell.
Heartbreak.
Pure. Raw. Heartbreak.
“Emotion out of it. We need her. Only link to that fucker. Let’s move. Now.”
Maverick steps towards me without question, grabbing my arm, and hauling me outside.
“Stop!” I cry.
I try to pull backwards, but he doesn’t stop.
I don’t have my security team here at home, because as soon as I’m not on tour, they are officially off duty. Of course, I could have requested them, but when Maverick said the bikers would take care of it, I told Susan to let them be. I wish like hell I didn’t make that choice now that I’m being dragged across the dirt towards a pack of men that think I’m some sort of lying bitch.
“Maverick, please!” I cry. “You’re hurting me.”
“Shut your mouth. Do not say another word. Get on the bike. If you argue, I will make you get on the fuckin’ bike.”
My bottom lip trembles, but I get on the bike behind him. I don’t touch him, I just very lightly grab the back of his jacket. He’s so tense. So angry. He wants my head, and I don’t blame him, but my own rage is fighting with my guilt. Rage that he’s not letting me explain. Rage that, after everything we’ve shared, he hasn’t even considered that maybe I had no choice, and I had to do what I did.
He’s not giving me a chance.
None at all.
The ride back to the club house doesn’t take long. The moment we’re in, Maverick pulls me off the bike, and drags me into the massive house that’s seen better days. It’s run down on the outside, old faded wood, and chipped white paint. But the inside is a different story. It’s actually quite nice, with dark tiled floors, and grey walls. There is a bar, a living area, some bedrooms, a kitchen, and a massive open area full of chairs and sofas.
Maverick drags me down the hall to a bedroom, shoving it open and stepping inside, pushing me in and closing the door behind him.
He’s wild.
Angry.
Furious.
I swallow, and take a step backwards. I don’t know what he’s about to do. But whatever it is. It isn’t good.
“Did it feel good?” he growls.
“Maverick, you’re scaring me,” I whisper, taking a step back when he takes a step forward.
“Did it?” he roars, fists clenched.
I flinch, and my bottom lip trembles. “Did what?”
“Using me? Letting me in? And then fuckin’ betraying me?”