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)
Spencer jumps out of the booth, grabs my shirt, and yanks me from my seat. He goes to hit me in the face, but I’m faster and ram my beer-covered fist into his nose.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Grant jump as he leaps onto my back. He slams me into the table. My arm knocks over a glass of beer. I grab a hold of it, spin around, and knock him on the side of the head with it.
A hand touches me, and I turn around, ready to swing, only to see Colt, Finn, Alex, and Jenks standing there. They break up fights, but they weren’t going to touch me.
“The fuck?” Tyson barks, heading toward me. The bartender caught it and called up to him. Fights happen all the time here. They’re always on the lookout. “Kashton,” Tyson growls, looking over at the three men bleeding and rolling around on the floor. “Get them the fuck out of here,” he barks at his minions.
“Where is she?” I snap, glancing around the club, trying to get my eyes to focus. The flashing lights make it hard to see.
“Who?” Tyson grabs my arm, but I yank it from his hold and storm toward the hallway that leads to the bathroom. “Kash, don’t—”
I shove open the women’s restroom door, and two girls standing at the counter turn and scream when they see me rush in.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Tyson growls, entering behind me.
A quick look tells me all the stall doors are open; she’s not in here. I spin around and leave as quickly as I entered.
“What in the fuck are you doing, Kash?” Tyson demands, running up behind me. “Do the guys know you’re here?”
I snort at his question. As if I need a fucking babysitter. Making my way to the back door, I walk outside and scan the parking lot for her car, but I don’t see it. She bailed. I wasn’t going to leave without her after that, but I can’t stay here now.
“Kash?” I hear Tyson call out. The bastard is still following me.
“I’m leaving,” I throw over my shoulder, walking up to my bike.
My adrenaline is running, my breathing erratic. Fuck, the fact that they even know her name pisses me off. How do they know her? Have they paid to fuck her? Did they rape her? I should have fucking stabbed them to death right there and then.
“Kash, wait—”
Straddling my Ninja H2R, I turn it on, rev the engine, and squeal the back tire as I exit the parking lot. I need some fresh air.
I come to a stoplight and pull out my cell, connecting it to my earbuds, and “Wasteland” by 10 Years begins to play. When the light turns green, I take off, racing to get onto the highway.
The cool night air hits my face, and I weave in and out of the light traffic, not caring how fast I’m going. My cell ringing pauses the song a few times, and I know it’s my brothers. Tyson is the father we all deserved to have, but right now, he’s tattling on me. Calling Haidyn and Saint to fill them in on what I did.
I adjust myself, sitting back on the bike, slow and shift into first gear, then open up the throttle. I pop a wheelie in the fast lane before slamming it down and taking the next exit. I take a quick look at the intersection coming up, ensuring no one is there, and run the red light, taking a right and speeding down the road.
A few minutes later, I’m taking curves faster than I should be down a two-lane road when I see headlights coming up fast behind me.
They flash a few times, but I ignore them. If it’s a cop, I’m prepared to outrun him. Not because I’m afraid of them but because I’m not in the mood to put up with one tonight. I’m still on edge and need to fight. I’d rather run from a cop than beat the shit out of one. That will definitely piss off the guys.
After about a mile, they finally pass me and slam on their brakes.
Fuck.
I yank on my front brake so hard that it brings my rear end up while the nose goes down into a stoppie position. I place both boots on the ground as the back tire slams onto the road.
The car pulls off the two-lane road onto a gravel one and I decide to follow. Coming to a stop, I slam down my kickstand and yank my earbuds out, strolling toward the car. “What the fuck?” I shout. My blood was already pumping, but now I’m in the mood to finish what I wanted to do to those guys at Blackout. I fist my blood-covered knuckles.