Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77505 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77505 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
And there was no fucking way in hell I was going to say anything about her pulling a gun on me… or the little interaction afterward. The one that had her all melting and soft, that had her voice going thick and breathless.
I shook those thoughts away since getting a semi in the common area of the clubhouse was not ideal.
“Did she say anything else useful?”
“Mostly just that her dad was a dick. Misogynistic even to her once she got older. She got the house just because there was no one else to lay claim to it.”
Slash exhaled hard. “What about the clubhouse?” he asked Rook. “Anything on that?”
“I have a very grainy aerial view of it. Can’t really even see much of it.”
“Where is it?”
“Not far from where the drop was.”
“Anything about the former club members? The girls?”
“I did find two girls who were registered to vote at that address a few years back,” Saint said.
“And?”
“And I found arrest records for both of them,” Rook said, turning his screen for Slash to look at.
There were the two women—one blonde, one brunette. Both looked sunken in the face. Their eyes were hollow. Their skin fucked up.
“Meth, probably,” Rook said as Slash looked. “This is what those same women looked like a few years ago, per their socials.”
They’d both been gorgeous, healthy, glowing.
“Sick what Roach did to them.”
“So some of the girls have social media. Did you dig into those? Find other girls? Pictures of Dylan? Or the inside of the clubhouse?”
“Most of their socials are either locked down tight or inactive, from what I can tell. I have friend requests out to a few of them. If they accept, I can see more. But so far, no pictures of the clubhouse. Though there was one with Dylan in the background.”
It was a group shot with five girls leaning together, drinks in hand, grinning at the camera. The focus was on them. But Dylan was a shadow in the back corner, dressed all in black. Her head was thrown back, a big smile spread across her face.
She looked different.
Happier, obviously.
But also, calmer.
Less guarded.
All that was shit that Roach took from her.
He had a fuckuva lot to pay for.
“I was hoping we’d know enough to know if we can trust her,” Slash said.
“She saved my life,” I reminded him.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “There’s that.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t prejudge her,” I said, getting a brow raise from Saint, but Slash let it slide. “She’ll be here—now,” I said when the door flew open.
Then there she was.
“I figured it was only fair that I let myself in here when you let yourself into my room,” she said, shooting me a ‘Whattaya gonna do about it?” smirk.
“You broke into her room?” Slash asked. I could hear the question hanging there between the words. Why didn’t you investigate?
“I dropped off her medication,” I said, shrugging. “I couldn’t leave it outside the door.”
“Sure. That’s all it was. Just like you’re not all here, looking like zombies, because you didn’t spend all night trying to research me. How’d that go?” she asked. The light in her eyes suggested she knew exactly how it went.
“Did you have your info scrubbed, or did it never exist?” Rook asked.
“I have social media,” she said, making Rook look defeated. “But it’s under a fake name and I don’t use my picture.”
“Why?”
“I knew a girl in school who got stalked something fierce by some creep who came across her online. Stuck with me. Made me careful. You know, you could have just asked me anything you wanted to know,” she said, looking at Slash.
“I wanted something to compare what you said to.”
“I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a liar. I’m here to answer anything you want to know.”
“When did your cherry get popped?” Raff asked, making me shake my head.
But Dylan just shot him a bland look. “Seventeen. He was twenty-six. And, no, at the time, I didn’t realize how fucked up that was.” She paused, then shot Raff a little grin. “You’re not going to get a rise out of me. Believe me, I’ve heard and seen some shit.”
“Can I get you something to drink?” I asked. “Coffee?” I suggested when her gaze slid to the one in my hand. There was some kind of battle going on there. Maybe something to do with her sugar or something. I had no idea. But I suddenly wanted to learn everything I could about diabetes.
“Do you have any diet soda?”
“Just about every kind,” I said. At her scrunched brows, I added, “Club girls.”
“Right. Cherry then. So, what do you want to know?” she asked, looking at Slash.
“What was your club into?”
“Into?”
“Were you a one-percent club? Did you sell meth like your old man did? How’d you keep the bills paid?”
“I would never sell meth after what I saw growing up. We… dealt in secrets,” she said, taking the soda from me with a tightening of her lips that could maybe pass as a smile. If you were using your imagination.