Total pages in book: 331
Estimated words: 315585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1578(@200wpm)___ 1262(@250wpm)___ 1052(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 315585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1578(@200wpm)___ 1262(@250wpm)___ 1052(@300wpm)
She huffs and the elevator door opens. I take her hand, and she lets me pull her toward the hospital wing. “Devin?” I call out. “Devin?” I bark.
“Yes?” He runs out of a door and comes to a quick stop. He looks Eve up and down. “What’s wrong?”
“She has a tracker. I need it removed. Now.”
He frowns. “Where is it?”
“Left hip,” I answer.
Nodding, he says. “Of course. Room one.”
I pull her into it and grab her shirt, but she pulls back. “Did you fuck her?”
“Who?” I snap.
“Me…my sister?”
My brother has had a tracker on her for years, and she’s concerned about me screwing someone else? “Are you serious?” I snort.
“Don’t do that.” She shakes her head. “Make me sound crazy.”
“The fact that you think I’d cheat on you is crazy,” I shout.
“You thought she was me,” she screams, slamming her hands into my chest. “You buried her thinking it was me. You almost committed suicide because you thought I died.” Angry tears fill her pretty green eyes. “So…did you fuck her thinking it was me?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Adam did.” She crosses her arms over her chest.
“I’m not fucking Adam,” I growl, but I couldn’t be happier that he has never fucked my girl.
The door opens behind me, and Devin enters, cutting off our argument.
I stand in our office behind Saint’s desk with my hands shoved into the pockets of my jeans, staring out the wall of windows.
The sound of the door opening has me stiffening. I’m really not in the mood right now to deal with anyone. After Devin removed Eve’s tracker, I had to be alone. This is where I found myself.
“Adam left,” comes a woman’s voice that makes my skin crawl. It furthers my point that I’m in a sour mood.
Looking down over the circle drive, I see Adam walking down the steps with the brunette from the motel. Missy was her name? I snort. I’m sure it’s fake, along with everything else that has to do with him.
“When will he be back?” she goes on.
“If we’re lucky, never.”
“Kash,” she sighs, “he’s your brother.”
“That means nothing to me,” I say honestly. He’s gone too far this time. I can’t forgive him. If that makes me a horrible person, then so be it.
“It should,” she argues.
I turn around and look at Ashtyn. She’s been crying. I can see the streaks down her face, and it annoys me even more. “Tell that to Eve.”
“Hmm?” She frowns. “Tell her what?”
“Go and tell her that she should forgive Garrett because he’s her father.”
Her frown deepens. She wanted to talk to me. I’ll talk.
“He raped her.”
Her face pales, and she drops her eyes to the floor.
“Your father raped her. Mine raped her. Saint’s raped her. For years, her father let all of them rape her. A child. So, again…go tell my wife that she should forgive her father because he’s her dad and see what her response is.”
Wrapping her arms around herself, she remains silent.
“That’s why she tried to commit suicide…the one that ended up costing her the baby. In case you were wondering.” She looks up at me through her lashes. “Because there was a possibility that she was pregnant by her father. The same man who told her if it was a girl, he would allow them all to rape her too. If it was a boy, he’d force him to rape his own mother.”
She sniffs, and I want to roll my eyes but refrain. I don’t think she feels bad for Everett. Or hell, maybe I’m just a piece of shit and she does, but I don’t care. I know what she said to my wife. About killing her child and no longer being able to have kids. Funny enough, it was Saint who told me. He was worried about Eve’s mental state after what his wife said to mine.
I’m usually not this heartless, but I’ve reached my limit.
Fuck anyone who tries to hurt my wife. Physically or mentally. That woman has been through enough, and I will let the world know that if they attack her in any way, I will make sure they never do it again. You want to make my wife feel bad; I’ll make you hate yourself.
“I don’t know if it’s a trauma response,” I go on at her silence, “or the fact that you’re jealous your life isn’t the same as it once was…or maybe you’re just being a bitch.” Her eyes narrow on mine, and I know I’ve hit a nerve. Good. Tells me my guess is spot-on. “But you need to shut the fuck up and keep whatever opinions or thoughts you have to yourself because no one wants to hear them.”
She takes a deep breath. I think she’s going to yell at me. Maybe cry and try the sympathy card, but instead, she turns and exits the office, slamming the door shut on her way out.