Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 173392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 694(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 694(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
Is that true? They fucking pass their wives around?
Milo lowers his voice, taunting us. “I hear Jerome Watson is after Krisjen.” He grins, and something starts crawling up my throat, my gut turning to brick. “She will get so much attention as a young St. Carmen wife. Maybe down the road, I’ll get my turn with her again.”
I bite down on my teeth, and he releases a sigh, a memory playing behind his eyes. “My favorite thing about Krisjen,” he whispers, “is that she hits back.”
I launch for him, grabbing him by the back of the neck and pushing him to the ground. Motherfucker.
Someone grabs me from behind. “No, goddammit!” Army bellows, wrapping his arm around my neck and hauling me back against him.
I growl, fighting to get away, and he throws me off to the side, getting in my face.
“Stop it!” Army yells at me. “He’s baiting you!”
He turns, and I glare at Milo, knowing we should’ve fucking killed him last May.
Army points his finger in Milo’s face. “Get the fuck out of here!”
Milo backs off, toward his car, but pauses to spit on our ground. “Enjoy your last week, Iron.” He breathes hard. “By the time you get out, nothing will be yours.”
And I know exactly what he means.
We watch him drive out of the Bay, and I wipe the sweat off my lip.
Why can’t they just leave us alone? They have everything. Our land is a fraction of what it was, and they just keep coming for more.
All of this will be gone by the time I’m out.
I see Krisjen carry drinks to people on the deck, and I head for her.
“Iron,” Trace calls out.
I ignore him, watching Krisjen head back inside.
“Krisjen,” I call.
She turns her head, sees me, and rolls her eyes. “I know …” She enters the restaurant, and I follow. “It took about three seconds after you left for me to realize that I did not want to be subjected to my mother today, so I’m taking you up on your offer. But just for today.” She nods, assuring me. “I won’t be back. I mean it.”
She’s being playful, but it’s the wrong time. “Just go now.”
She turns and looks at me, and I feel my brothers stopping behind me.
“I mean it,” I tell her. “Leave.”
Someone lets out a hard breath. Probably Trace. He wants to be on my side, but he doesn’t know what I’m doing.
Krisjen frowns, straightening as we all confront her. “What’s wrong?” she asks us.
“You heard him,” Dallas tells her. “Go.”
“We’re not a fucking tourist attraction,” I point out. “Dick for you girls to ride until you’ve had enough. Slum somewhere else.”
“Iron, knock it off,” Trace barks. “Krisjen’s not like that.”
“We’re a joke to them,” I say over my shoulder. “To all of them. They use us.”
“Like you and Dallas, or any of you, were looking for love all the times you went after St. Carmen tail?” She sneers. “Please.”
“The difference is …” I walk up to her, lowering my voice. “We would marry you.”
Her chest caves a little.
“If we loved you,” I tell her. “I’d be so fucking proud if you were mine. Any of us would be. Would you show me off to your friends? Jump at the chance to live over here in the gutter with us?”
A lump moves down her throat, but her stern expression doesn’t waver. “If I ever loved any of you, then maybe.”
Dallas snickers behind me, but she doesn’t fight me further. Ripping off the apron around her waist, she grabs the little girl, who I can only assume is one of her siblings, and rushes out of the restaurant.
“No! I don’t want to go!” the little girl screams. Her sketchbook falls from her hands, her crayons still on the table.
“I’m sorry,” Krisjen chokes out. “It’s okay.”
“What did I do?”
“Nothing, honey. I’ve got you.”
Trace sweeps up the sketchbook, and we all walk after her, down the steps of the restaurant.
“Trace will deliver your Rover when it’s done,” I tell her.
“I’m taking it now.”
“It’s not drivable.”
She whips around. “Like I give a shit!”
Army quietly laughs, and I follow as she heads to her Rover, which is still parked in front of our house. She leaves her dad’s Benz at Mariette’s. Is she actually going to take her little sister home in a car that’s unsafe?
“You’re stubborn,” I taunt. “I always liked that. But no one can ever accuse you girls of being smart. That’s for sure.”
She puts her sister into her back seat, closes the door, and turns to face me. “See this?” She grabs herself between her legs. “I was born with all the tools I need to make as many sons as it takes to see this shithole burned to the ground.”
“Ohhhh.” Trace laughs.
Army snorts. “Damn.”
“Shut up,” I growl at them. That isn’t funny.