Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 167204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 557(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 557(@300wpm)
Actually, no.
That’s what it is.
I’d put money on it.
There’s something absurdly proper about her as she sits there trying to straighten the see-through white lace to cover her smooth, exposed thigh. Her hand freezes when she spots something she must not have noticed before, though.
Blood.
Not hers, but the blood of that asshat who was on top of her when I slid my blade between his fucking ribs.
I didn’t like that guy. Probably didn’t need to stab him, but I wanted to, so I did.
He’ll be fine. I shouldn’t have pierced anything vital, but it was an unnecessary risk to take.
I didn’t like that he kissed her.
I don’t know why, I just didn’t.
Doing damage like that leaves me open to potential trouble, though, so I shouldn’t have done it. I don’t know if they’ll take him to a hospital to get him stitched up, but assuming they do, someone’s going to ask how he got that injury.
“We’re gonna need to get a tail on the RKs,” I tell Shane. “I need to know what their next moves are so I can figure mine out.”
“Our next moves,” Shane says without having to think about it. His gaze flickers to me in the mirror, but since the girl’s here, he doesn’t say anything else.
I know what he means, though. I may have been the one to step in some shit tonight, but every one of my brothers will go to bat for me if they need to.
“Speaking of next moves, could someone drop me back at my car so I can go home?” Brynn asks.
“No,” I say simply.
She frowns at me, but doesn’t argue. Instead, arms crossed and annoyed, she mutters, “I thought you said you were a good guy.”
From the front seat, Shane snickers.
I smirk faintly. “That is not what I said.”
Chapter Six
Brynn
I fidget with my costume as my savior—captor?—cuts the wheel and pulls into a dark parking garage.
I put my heels back on when it was time to get out of his buddy’s car and into his, but we haven’t said a word to each other since.
Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten into his car, but I didn’t have my phone and my car is parked back by the frat house. My options seemed to be getting into his car or walking back to my car in heels and risking one of the pervy frat guys picking me up along the way.
And it started raining.
None of my options were great, but this seemed like the best one.
He cuts the wheel and pulls into a spot marked ‘reserved’ more aggressively than I think he needs to.
He kills the engine, then opens his car door and climbs out.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, so I get out, too. I stand on the passenger side of the car uncertainly and watch as he walks around the back and heads toward an elevator without a word.
Chewing on my bottom lip, I look around. I don’t know where I am, exactly. I recognized some of the stuff on the way over, but I haven’t been on this street. I think we’re near campus, so my apartment probably isn’t too far away.
“You coming?” he asks.
My gaze snaps back to him, and I hustle to catch up since he has already pressed the elevator button.
The elevator doors open and he’s inside by the time I catch up to him. My heart pounds, and I don’t think it’s because I had to jog over here in heels, but I’m having serious concerns about my cardiovascular health tonight.
The elevator has bad fluorescent lighting, and it’s eerily quiet. It feels like we’re in a low-budget horror flick, and I wonder if I’m the idiot who did the thing the audience was screaming at them not to do. I can hear myself being nervous, and he seems so unbothered, I feel self-conscious about it.
Maybe I should feel more self-conscious about following some guy I don’t know, whose face I can’t even see, up to an undisclosed location, but I keep telling myself he saved me from imminent peril, so he must be some kind of good guy.
As if in response, my brain summons the memory of him tackling me to the ground and holding me there, his body planted between my spread legs, his rough hands all over me.
He sure didn’t feel like a good guy then.
His friend also laughed when I said that in the car, and if even your friends don’t think you’re any good… well, there’s probably something to that.
The elevator dings and the doors slide open.
We’re on the 18th floor.
I file the information away, even though I don’t know what I need it for. In case something else bad happens, I guess.
The police department is going to have to hire a whole new employee for the marathon of crimes I’ll have to report tonight.