Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 182075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Monica quickly entered, glaring at Spencer. “I think you better leave, Mr . . . ?”
“Hensley,” Spencer said. “Princess, I’m so sorry. I never meant to harm you.”
Indie could see the clear regret on his face. She knew that he’d never intentionally hurt her.
But that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t keep doing it.
This time wasn’t entirely his fault. But was it going to keep happening? And she wasn’t talking about physical pain.
More the emotional kind.
“Indie,” he whispered, sounding heartbroken.
“Please leave, Spencer. I just need to be on my own.”
“All right.”
Turning, he walked out of the bathroom door. Indie told herself it was for the best. That the heartbreak these guys would bring with them wasn’t worth the pleasure rush she got from their attention.
They were like a drug. Addictive and providing her with the ultimate high.
Followed by the lowest of lows.
When he was gone Monica gave her a sympathetic look. “He’s gorgeous but he looks like trouble.”
“They all are,” she said. “That’s the problem.”
19
Slade’s phone buzzed as he sat in his office at the club. It was early evening and Club Slade wouldn’t open for a couple of hours yet. He had a to-do list a mile long. Including interviews with prospective new members.
But he couldn’t give a shit about any of that.
His entire fucking empire could crumble.
He. Didn’t. Care.
All he cared about right now was the fact that Indie was lying in pain in a fucking hospital bed.
Because of fucking Billy Moray.
He was going to kill him. Picking up the glass in front of him, he swallowed the last of his Scotch. As he set it carefully down, he was aware of the office door opening and Quaid stepping in.
The man moved so silently he could have worked as an assassin.
“Not going to throw that?” Quaid asked dryly.
Asshole.
“I’m cutting down.”
Quaid took a seat across from him. He always looked unruffled. As usual, his shirt and pants were neatly pressed. Not a wrinkle in sight. And not one hair out of place.
Unlike Slade, who probably looked like he’d been run over by a steamroller. His shirt was heavily creased and he’d been running his fingers through his hair since he’d left the hospital.
He’d wanted to stay.
He wanted to go back.
But of all of them, Spencer was the most likely to get through to her. To help ease their way to regaining her trust.
Well, him or Rock.
But Rock was acting weird and hadn’t wanted to stay when they’d had a brief, rushed conversation outside Indie’s hospital room.
Under any other circumstances, he’d be worried about his friend and trying to understand what was going on. However, he knew Rock was probably just attempting to come to terms with what he’d done to Indie.
What they’d all done to Indie.
“Billy needs to die,” Slade said through clenched teeth.
Quaid didn’t protest. Spencer would have. Although maybe not when it came to Indie.
His oldest friend nodded.
He and Quaid had been best friends since they’d met in kindergarten. In a lot of ways they were opposites.
Slade could be a hothead. He lost his temper quickly and fiercely. But he also loved with that same ferocity.
That was why he’d taken Indie’s betrayal so badly.
Well, her supposed betrayal.
Because for years she’d been his. He’d have done anything for her.
“I know,” Quaid replied. Quaid tended to be cold and calculating. He always thought first before reacting.
People didn’t gravitate toward him like they did to Slade.
They usually took one look at Quaid and ran the other way.
But not Indie.
“I can’t believe he fucking beat her. He’s been abusing her, Quaid,” he said in a broken voice. “Our girl. He was abusing our girl. And we kicked her out like she was nothing. Like she was scum. What if Maggie hadn’t helped her? What if she’d ended up on the street? Can you imagine what could have happened?”
Quaid’s jaw tensed. “You don’t need to tell me. I have thought of little else but Indie and how she got all of those bruises.”
“And she’s pregnant.”
His girl was pregnant.
Quaid tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair, clearly in thought. “What do you want me to do?”
Slade ran his hand over his face. “I want him found and I want him to pay. And from now on, anyone she comes into contact with, anyone she wants to be friends with, they all get thoroughly checked.”
“I’ll get Shepherd onto tracking him.”
Shepherd was a genius with a computer. When he was younger, Scotland Yard had turned up at their boarding school and dragged him away to interview him because he’d nearly gotten past all of security and into their databases.
“Good,” Slade said. “I’ve messaged Liliana and she’ll come in tomorrow to set up Indie’s room.”
Liliana was their cleaner.
“I’m not sure how long she’ll have to rest and recuperate. But it could be a while, especially since she’s pregnant.”