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)
Church was in the right and it seemed like he had things well under control.
Which freed Slade up to deal with St. Clare.
“Actually, he can,” Slade said. “Church is in charge of Club Slade for the foreseeable future.”
“Fine, then you can’t kick me out,” Roger said, turning to Church. “I’m sure that James is much more civilized and understanding about these things. After all, she didn’t say her safeword. In fact she indicated that she wanted this. I still don’t understand what the problem is.”
“All unattached subs, those with pink bands, are only allowed to play with you if you negotiate with the Dom looking after them for the night,” Church informed him coolly. “That’s a fundamental rule of the club and one that you broke.”
“Well, she broke it too!” Roger protested. “You cannot kick me out!
Slade had had enough of this up-himself bastard.
“Just did, douchebag,” Slade told him. “Rock.”
Rock walked over to St. Clare who gave him a nervous glance and stepped away. Guys like Roger relied on their money in order to intimidate others. But he was soft and a coward.
“You’re not kicking me out, I’m leaving! This club is shit anyway.”
Rock followed Roger out as Slade turned to Church who still held Lemon.
She was staring up at him in wonder.
Hmm.
“Lemon, look at me.” Slade knew he had to be firm with her or she wouldn’t pay him any attention.
Her gaze shot to his. Her real name wasn’t Lemon, of course. But she couldn’t stand to hear anyone call her by her name anymore. He’d called her that once and had to guide her out of a panic attack and wrap her up tight until she’d fallen asleep.
She’d slept in his office for two hours.
“Lemon, you can’t play with Doms unless your minder says so. Understand? That’s a rule.”
Lemon whispered something to Margo.
“She wants to know if you’re going to punish her?” Margo asked.
The trouble was that Lemon always thought she needed punishment. That’s why she wanted to be hurt.
As penance.
“You’ll be punished but I’ll do it,” Church said while Margo looked at Lemon in worry.
“I don’t think—” Margo started to say.
“Margo, Church has this,” Slade told her. “Where is Pete?”
Pete was her Dom. But he never seemed to have control over her. Margo was a wildcard.
“You know . . . I’ll just go find him.” Margo left hurriedly.
Church sighed. “I’ll send someone after her. I’m starting to think that you might have stitched me up, leaving me in charge of this place.”
“Welcome to the madhouse.”
23
His phone buzzed and Quaid quickly put the weights down before swiping it up.
Fuck.
He closed his eyes. Thank fuck he was alone because if Slade or Rock had just seen how quickly he’d grabbed his phone, they’d know he was full of bullshit.
That he couldn’t stand not knowing everything about their girl.
She must hate you.
He’d been so fucking cruel to her. That was who he was, though, right?
He’d been raised to be this way.
Unfeeling and cold.
To do whatever was necessary to protect his family.
But Indie was the heart of that family, she always had been. And he’d torn the heart out and stomped on it.
So now he had to ensure that the others got their heart back. Even if he had to live without it.
Spencer: The doctor is due in an hour. Indie seems to think she’ll get to go home today. She’s still so fucking pale and fragile. I don’t know if she should be allowed to leave.
Quaid sat on the weights bench. He was in their private gym, trying to exorcise some of his demons. He hadn’t slept at all last night.
Quaid: Wait and hear what the doctor says.
Shit.
Why did he answer so quickly? He blamed it on his lack of sleep.
Slade: Let us know what he says immediately and we’ll start making arrangements in case she needs to stay.
Rock: How is she?
Spencer: Physically? Like I said, she looks worn and fragile. Emotionally? Breakable. Totally fucking breakable and I hate it. I want her home with us, she doesn’t rest well here. She has nightmares. I’m not sure if she’s even aware of them.
Quaid put his phone down carefully before turning to the punching bag.
He smacked his fist straight into it without bothering with a glove or tape.
The pain slammed into his knuckles and up his arm. But he didn’t give a fuck.
She. Had. Nightmares.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
“Jesus! Fuck! Stop!”
He was barely aware of Slade grabbing hold of him, tearing him away from the bag. Of the other man pushing him up against the wall.
Quaid breathed in deeply. The pain in his hand was immense, but he deserved it.
That and much, much more.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Slade roared. “Are you trying to break your hand?”
“Let me go,” Quaid seethed. “Now.” He slammed his hands against the other man’s shoulders, shoving him back.