Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
I do the files first, sorting them into alphabetical order and then going and putting them into Travis’s filing cabinet. Then, I move on to the fan mail. My god, this man has some letters. I didn’t even know fan mail was still a thing, but here we are. I dump the overflowing bag on my desk and sift through the letters. All of them claim their undying love, occasional ones about a sick family member, and a few nasty ones.
God.
Then, I come across one that makes me immediately uneasy. Written on cream paper, a simple one-line note. Travis, why is she back? I warned you—get rid of her, or I will.
My fingers tremble and I flip over the envelope. No return address, just a name. TravsAngel. God. Who the fuck is TravsAngel? Is that some kind of screen name? I tuck the note in my pocket and slip out. Janice is lingering by Haylee’s office, the two of them whispering about something.
“Where’s Trav?” I ask.
“Mr. Phoenix is busy.”
“I am aware of that, but it’s important. Where is he?”
“As I said, he is busy, so, just like the rest of us, you will have to wait.”
Her tone is pissing me off.
Before I can snap back, Travis rounds the corner, his eyes narrowed like he just heard her speaking. “Janice, why is reception unattended?”
She gives me a sugar-sweet smile and leaves.
“What’s up?” he asks, eyes narrowing when he sees my expression.
I pull the note free. His face doesn’t even twitch as he reads.
“Just fan mail,” he says casually.
“Those are some passionate fans,” I mumble. “They’re talking about me.”
“Hate to break it to you, kid, but it’s not the first time I have gotten a letter about you. Believe it or not, it is normal.”
I bite my lip, trying to trust what he is saying, but something feels incredibly uneasy about the whole thing.
I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I don’t like it.
Not one bit.
10
I am just finishing up at the store after gathering supplies for Chief’s tonight. It’s his birthday, and I’m determined to celebrate with him and the club. Travis is going to meet me there after work, and Reagan will follow along later with Harley. I’m standing on the sidewalk, just opening my trunk to put everything away when a dark sedan glides up beside me. I look up, expecting a cab, and find a familiar face in the driver’s seat.
Demon.
It has been a while, but I know that face.
“Well, hello, Mischief.”
He opens the door, getting out of the car and causing me to take a hesitant step back. The last time this man had his hands on me, he choked me nearly to death. Then he tried to kill my mother. There isn’t a single thing I trust about him, especially in a mostly empty parking lot. I try to move backward, but he’s suddenly at my side. His fingers curl around my wrist, digging in. I wince.
“Let go,” I say, forcing my voice steady.
He pushes me against my car, pressing something cold to my side that I know right away is a gun. “I only want to talk,” he says, grinning. “Tell me, Mischief—how’s daddy?”
I swallow. “Let me go.”
He laughs under his breath. “You know, Jasmine told me you’d be here today.” His words hit like a punch. “My darling Jasmine.” He is still grinning, like he knows he has already won. “I thought when you left, it was the best thing that could ever happen to him, cut his damned heart right out. Maybe, he would know how it felt. But no, that motherfucker keeps on rolling, now with my daughter by his side, too.”
“She isn’t your daughter. Maybe if you were more of a man, you could have produced one.”
My words are fire and before I know it, he has his hand curled around my throat, squeezing just enough to make my pulse pound in my skull. I let my eyes frantically move around the parking lot, but there is nobody to be seen.
“Daughter or not, she gives me what I need. Did your daddy tell you I nearly killed him a year ago? Oh, wait, you ran off and left him, so I guess not.”
I want to scream, kick, punch, but instead I can do nothing but glare at him while trying to catch my breath.
He releases me, stepping back and dusting off his hands like I am the filthy one. Then, casually, he tells me, “Say hi to him for me, won’t you?”
Then, just like that, he walks away.
Fucking psychopath.
Shaken, I manage to get myself into my car and get the hell out of there, knowing I need to tell Chief what I just found out. By the time I arrive, music and laughter spill into the street. I get out of the car, scanning the crowd—only to see Jasmine perched at the table beside Chief, laughing like nothing’s wrong.