Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 130221 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130221 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
“Aro, they won’t let me in,” Tommy says again.
Two women run past, moms jogging their kids in strollers, and I breathe out a laugh. This place… “Let’s go.”
I get out of the car, dumping the baton in the back seat, and look back to make sure she follows. I don’t know what she’s afraid of, but tonight, she’s with me.
We stroll across the street, and I pull up my hood. I open the door and step inside, music filling the place like a bar, someone’s vape smoke hovering around the ceiling lamps in the dim light.
Rivertown is controlled chaos, and the kids are too stupid to see it. Their parents built a nice place for them to get together that looks like a bar, with booths and private seating in the adjoining tunnels in the back, a great menu, pool tables, and loud music, but it’s right in the center of town in full view of traffic cams and a block from the police station.
They run around like they own the whole world, but I guess wolves born on a leash never know they shouldn’t be wearing one.
I look around, seeing a few eyes turn my way like they do to see who’s entered the chat, and hold back my amusement. I bet they all have names like Hudson and Harper.
Walking to the bar, I feel the room shift a little, the chat faltering and whispers rising above the jukebox. I don’t belong here.
They know who I am. Now let’s see what happens.
I turn, resting my back against the brass railing and survey the room as Tommy sets up position next to me.
“You want to park, you have to order,” a voice says.
I turn my head, eyeing the bartender and seeing realization cross his face. “Never mind,” he says, backing off.
I think we sell him weed.
I gaze at the tables filled along the wall, spotting Trent and staring until she looks up and stops acting like she doesn’t know I’m here.
It’s kind of fun knowing that Jared Trent’s daughter owes me money.
But someone is at her side, watching us, and I feel his disdain from here.
He’s not looking at me, though. His hard eyes stare motionless and filled with intolerance at the kid next to me, and I glance between her and him, seeing her eyes drop to the floor like she’s trying to disappear.
They won’t let me in there.
“This is your town,” I tell her. “Why do they hate you?”
She just shakes her head, though, and I look back at the table, my anger rising. She’s thirteen. What the fuck is their problem?
“Are you holding?” some guy asks from my side.
“No.”
He walks off, and I shake my head. It’s funny how they like me here more than Tommy. I guess I’m more useful.
Trent rises from the table, walking straight for me. She stops at my side, like she’s ordering from the server. “I’ll have it tomorrow,” she says in a quiet voice. She grabs a straw and reaches over the bar, making herself a soda.
“Dylan,” the bartender scolds.
But I reply, “Now.”
“I don’t have it,” she says.
“Now.” I glare at Blue Eyes, relishing this and hoping I have a reason to hit her. “Or the next time you see me, it’ll be in front of your parents or at school.”
“Screw yourself.” She sips her drink, batting her eyelashes. “I shouldn’t have to pay for bad merchandise. Keep coming at me, and you won’t have a customer to speak of.”
I can’t stop myself. I slam the drink out of her hand and yank her down by the hair.
“Ah!” she growls. “Get off me!”
The crowd howls, people gathering around, and she grabs my legs, throwing her shoulder into my stomach. She rams me into the bar, and I crash into the stools, the wood digging into my back.
“Ugh,” I growl, dragging her to the floor with me.
Scrambling, I grip her collar, holding her away as I flip her over and climb on top.
“Get off her!” someone shouts, a dozen legs moving around us.
Someone grabs at my coat, but they’re gone before I have a chance to throw them off.
“You make everything worse,” a man’s voice says.
Trent hits my face, and I rear my fist back, so happy she doesn’t have my money. This is more fun.
But before I can bring the punch down, someone grabs the back of my jacket with both hands and hauls me off of her. They shove me back and dive down, taking her by the arms and pulling her to her feet.
Dressed in long black shorts, a white T-shirt, and running shoes, he checks her face, but she pushes his hands away, looking around him to scowl at me like I’m dirt.
Brat. I push past him, going after her again, but he takes me by the collar and walks my ass backward, setting me away from her. “Back off!” he shouts.