Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
But even though there was no history in more than a platonic sense, she was absolutely a trigger for me now, something West could use to torment me endlessly with.
"Inquiring minds have to know," West said, and I didn't trust the smirk on his lips. "Did you diddle the president's daughter?"
I'd never had a short fuse.
Or so I thought.
This night was teaching me some things about myself that I maybe never wanted to know.
Like how easily I could snap.
Because one second, he was across the room from me.
The next, I had him pinned to the wall by his throat.
"Watch it," my voice hissed out of me.
A reaction was slow to cross West's face. For someone who often did flit around his emotions quickly, it was strange to see the brow arch ever-so-slowly.
"We're friends, brothers, and I thought this went without saying," he started, choosing his words carefully, something vaguely threatening in his tone, showing me a side of him that I didn't often get to see, "but you don't want to fuck with me, man. You throw hands at me again, and this is going to get ugly fast."
I didn't doubt him.
West was let into the club for legitimate reasons. Reign didn't owe him a marker like he did with me. West didn't have an in like Colson did since Virgin shacked up with Freddie.
He was patched in because he had things to offer.
And, from what I heard, those things included violence.
"Fuck," I hissed, remembering myself, releasing his neck. "Shit, West. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me," I admitted, raking a hand through my hair. Every ounce of me felt off-kilter. My mind was racing from one thing to another so fast it was giving me mental whiplash.
"Really?" he asked, cracking his neck. "Because I've seen these signs a few too many times."
"What signs?"
"Oh, the pacing, the crazy eyes, the fits of violence. Always have one thing in common. A woman."
"She's been missing for almost nine years, West. Shit is different."
"Shit might be different, but some other shit seems like it is starting to make sense."
"What are you talking about?"
"Your moody ass," he told me, smiling as he snatched a bottle off the back bar. "I never made the connection. But then I saw that girl out there. It's all falling into place."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Always noticed you eyeing these chicks. Short black haired chicks. But you never approached them. Just looked at 'em all longingly. Last I saw a picture of Ferryn, she had long-ass hair. It never clicked. She shaved her head. And so you've been looking for her in every bar and club and every town we've done a drop in. Eight and a half years, you've been haunted by this chick. Or the memory of her. And now she shows up unexpected and she's nothing like the girl you knew and were pining for."
"I wasn't pining for her. It was never like that for us. She was my little sister's best friend. That's it. We got along. But it was platonic."
"Platonic because she was jailbait maybe."
"Don't," I snapped. "I don't like what you're implying."
"Just thinking out loud," he said, shrugging, tipping back a bottle. "But I am going to throw this out here because it is something you might need to keep in mind for the next week."
"What?" I asked, feeling like I didn't want to know.
"No matter how fucking tempting it might be, you don't touch the president's daughter."
With that, he moved out of the common space, going down the hall where the rooms were situated, leaving me alone with my own swirling thoughts.
I didn't need the warning, of course.
I had no plans on touching Ferryn.
Unless it was to grab her and shake some fucking sense back into her, that is.
Too amped up to rest, I told West I would take the night shift, deciding that if I was going to be pacing, pacing the grounds doing rounds was at least a useful.
By the time the sun came up and Cash's bike was rumbling up the road, I was near dead on my feet.
Thankful for the break, and happy I would be able to sleep instead of lie to his face about his niece, I headed to bed, not waking up until late in the afternoon.
Groggy and disoriented, it took a long time for everything to click together in my head.
Ferryn.
My old apartment.
Her not being able to leave.
Skinnier than ever, the food I had brought her was probably more than enough to sustain her, but that didn't mean she should be forced to exist off of chips and junk food cakes and peanut butter.
I took a shower, gave Cash an excuse about having to meet Iggy for lunch, then picked us up some food and coffee—investing in a couple more of those steel containers—then making my way back toward my old place, wondering what she might have done to pass the time, to keep herself occupied. The lack of entertainment had never bothered me much. I had always been playing music, writing music, listening to music. I didn't need a TV.