Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
With my free hand, I texted Russ, who was probably worried fucking sick right about then.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked after we got back to the clubhouse, both of us wordlessly stripping down and climbing into the shower after handing Irwin over to Valen who promised to warm him under a shop light until Sutton showed up with his enclosure.
“There’s not much to say. They… they were both sick. Said they wanted me since I was a little girl. Jim apparently attacked me because he thought I’d been flirting with my barista.”
“The gay one?” I asked.
“That’s what I said,” she said, leaning into me after I finished scrubbing all the blood off of my body. “They were going to take turns with me, but I, ah, I pulled the period card,” she admitted.
That was why his dick had been out.
Because he wanted her to go down on him.
And my girl was quick enough to grab a hold of it, and bend that fucker.
“How did you find me?”
“Mostly thanks to Russ and Shale.”
“Shale? From the coffee place?” she asked.
“She had cameras. They led us in the right direction. We had no idea there were two of them, though.”
“In a way, thank God,” she said, exhaling hard, her shoulders dropping with it. “Ben kept Jim somewhat under control.”
I guess it was fitting that his end was a little less painful and drawn out.
“I mean, it was clear he was willing to rape me too, but… but in his twisted mind, I think he thought I would want it.”
“Well, neither of them will put their hands on anyone again,” I told her.
“I wasn’t the first girl,” she said, sounding unfathomably sad.
“I’d think not,” I agreed. That kind of sick usually came with practice.
“My dad didn’t like Jim. He told him to stay away from me. But he thought Ben was safe. So did I.”
“Some people are good at hiding their evil,” I reminded her. “Some of the world’s worst serial killers had wives, girlfriends, kids.”
“Yeah,” she agreed, taking a deep breath. “Can we get out? I’m so tired,” she admitted.
“How’s your ankle?” I asked as we both dried off.
“Not great,” she admitted, and we both looked down at it, finding it swollen.
“We’ll ice and elevate it for tonight. Tomorrow, it’s back in your brace,” I told her.
“Sounds good,” she said, reaching for her clothes and putting them on.
I did the same.
And when we moved out into the bedroom, we found that Sutton had come in to set up Irwin’s whole enclosure.
He was settled inside, looking pleased to be home as he munched on a pile of greens, raw eggs, and bugs in his bowl.
“That’s a good boy,” she told him, getting her ass nudged by Nitro who wanted to be told he was a good boy too. “You too, buddy,” she said, petting his massive head. “I missed you,” she added, leaning down to press a kiss to his head. “I missed you too,” she said, looking up at me from under her lashes.
“Fuck, babe, I missed you too. Was worried I might not see you again,” I admitted, pulling her over to the bed.
We silently got under the covers, and I curled her into me.
As for Nitro, he sat and watched Irwin in his enclosure for a while before joining us, keeping our feet warm.
We said nothing else then, just getting lost in our own thoughts.
Some time later, there was a knock on our door, and Sully was pushing it open to move inside with a big tray loaded down with food.
“You cooked for me?” Sylvie asked, seeing some of her favorite foods on said tray.
“You already did enough,” I said, shaking my head at him.
“Did that for you. Did this for her,” he said, shrugging as he waited for Syl to sit up, then placed the tray on her lap.
“You’re the best,” she told him with a tired smile as she looked down at the tray full of some of her favorite foods.
Mostly junk, because that was what she liked. And that was what you deserved after having a shitty-ass day.
Mac & cheese—the boxed kind with the powdered cheese, not the home-cooked shit—tomato soup—the canned shit, but he added a little milk when he cooked it, and floated some croutons in it—, and a whole stack of sweets. Some of that came from a bakery. Some of it was those little snack cakes we used to eat as kids.
“Figured you aren’t hungry after… that,” Sully said, his knowing gaze holding mine for a second. Because he’d seen what I’d done to that fuck who’d hurt Sylvie. And, well, he was right. My stomach wasn’t up to eating. “Got you a coffee, though,” he said, plucking it off of her tray to hand to me.
“Thanks, man. For everything,” I added.