Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76807 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76807 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
But I didn’t even notice them.
My gaze was focused on Brooks, who’d been leaning on the bar when I’d entered, then moved to straighten, confusion scrunching his brows.
“Cal—“
“How could you sell it?” I said as I stormed over to him.
Alright.
I probably screeched that.
Especially judging by the way Brooks’s brows shot up.
“Come here,” he said, voice hushed as he grabbed my wrist and led me away.
CHAPTER NINE
Brooks
“Sell what?” I asked as soon as we were in my room, away from the curious gazes and eager ears in the common space of the clubhouse.
I don’t know who’d I’d been expecting when the door flew open.
For whatever reason, the guys didn’t seem in the mood to party, so I guess I imagined it might be one of the princesses who was bored and wanted to hang out.
The last person I expected was Caliana.
In a skintight silver dress that matched the shadow over her eyes, looking like she’d just come from some sort of formal outing.
I’d been so busy eye-fucking her that I’d missed the hatred in her gaze until her words were shrieking out of her.
As far back as I could remember, Cali had a long fuse. But when it finally reached the powder keg, she fucking exploded. Then burned bright and hot for a short while before blowing out, leaving her weepy and quiet.
“His watch!” she snapped, yanking her wrist out of my hold to walk deeper into my bedroom.
“Whose watch?” I asked, watching her pace back and forth in the small space.
“Clay’s watch! You sold it!”
“Wait, wait,” I said, holding out my hands. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart.”
“I saw it! I was at the fight tonight and the guy in front of me had it on his wrist. Clay’s watch. How could you?” she asked, voice thicker with the emotion that was really behind the anger. The grief that it seemed like she hadn’t let herself experience yet.
“Okay, back it up,” I said, keeping my tone calm to counteract her volatile emotions. “You were where?”
“At the fight.”
“The fight,” I repeated, confused for a second. “You mean the cage fight? At Jax’s place?” I asked, deciding her dress was probably pretty appropriate for that event. Even if some part of me wasn’t thrilled about her being there. Sure, it pulled in a diverse crowd. But a huge chunk of them were criminals.
“Yes. And the guy in front of me had on Clay’s watch. I know it was his. The second hand wasn’t working. How could you do that? You knew it had sentimental value.”
“Cali, I would fucking never sell your family watch. Never. I get that you fucking hate me now, but you have to believe that I knew what that meant to Clay and you. I wouldn’t do that.” She turned to me, wanting to find a lie in my words, but there wasn’t one, and she knew it. “I thought he had it on him when he crashed. He never took it off.”
Cali’s lower lip trembled for a second before she sank her teeth into it, forcing it to stop.
Why was she fighting her pain so hard?
No one expected you to lose your brother and just… go on like nothing happened.
This made no sense.
“I thought he did too,” she admitted, gaze sliding to the floor. “I figured he was… buried with it. I didn’t think to ask. There was too much… it was too much,” she said, her voice a hollow husk.
I wanted to tell her that I wished I had been there, that I could have helped her, taken some of the burden off. But the last thing I wanted to do was remind her that I hadn’t been.
“Could he have lost it?” I asked, watching as her gaze shot up again.
“No. I mean… no,” she said, shaking her head.
“Did he have it the last time you saw him?”
“Yes,” she said, without even thinking. Then, taking a second, she thought. “Yes. We went to dinner. His arm was on the table. I saw it.”
“When?”
“Just… two days… before…”
Two days before.
“Could he have pawned it?” I asked. “Was money an issue?”
“No. I mean… I don’t think so? He never said it was. He paid for dinner without a sweat. He had a lot of money in his wallet.”
Interesting.
“But that watch was worth, what? Ten? Fifteen grand?”
“Somewhere around there.”
“Anything in his life possibly cost that? Car? Medical bills?”
“No. His car was paid off. He bought it outright.”
Outright?
“What kind of car?” I asked, a trickle of discomfort working its way down my spine.
“What? Oh, ah, it was, crap. One of those sports cars?” she half declared, half asked, brows scrunching. “With a C…”
I mean, there were a few choices there.
The most obvious one, though, wasn’t helping this cold, sick sensation moving from my spine to wrap around my gut.
“Corvette?”
“Yeah, that’s it. He had a white Corvette.”