Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 90919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“You’d worry about me?” I joked as my eyes grew heavy. “That’s cute.”
“Shut it,” Cian ordered.
I slept so hard that I didn’t even notice the lumps and bumps beneath me. Between the cool night air and the heat trapped inside the sleeping bag, it was probably the coziest I’d ever been. I woke briefly sometime later when Cian let the cool air in as he slid under the sleeping bag and yanked it toward him, making me roll almost on top of him, but the position was even more comfortable, so I fell right back to sleep.
It wasn’t until hours later that I fully woke up to a bright light shining in my face.
“Found her,” my brother Otto called loudly.
“What?” I blinked at him in confusion.
“You’re in deep shit,” he replied darkly. “Get up.” He looked at Cian. “You, too, fucker.”
“Great,” Cian muttered.
I followed him slowly out of the tent, wrapping his sleeping bag around me for warmth. The sky was growing lighter, but the sun hadn’t risen yet, and it was cold as hell.
Outside was chaos.
No one should’ve been awake at that hour unless they hadn’t gone to sleep yet, but there were people blearily exiting their tents all around us, wondering what the hell was happening. Some sort of sixth sense had my head turning back toward the clubhouse to see my dad and brother Micky stomping toward us, and another brother Rumi moving to intersect them, all of their expressions like stone.
“What the fuck?” I whispered in confusion.
“Brace,” Otto advised, just as Dad reached us.
“Where the fuck have you been?” he asked quietly. The volume could’ve made someone assume that the words were said gently, but the tone was as icy as I’d ever heard it.
“What do you mean?” I asked dumbly, gesturing toward Cian’s tent.
“Woke up an hour ago to Frankie poundin’ on my door,” he said, pointing back at the building. “Sayin’ that she went back to your tent and couldn’t find ya. That you’d left hours before sayin’ you were goin’ to bed, but there was no sign of ya—”
“I couldn’t find—”
“So, we start callin’ your phone,” he continued, not letting me speak. My hand went instinctively to my back pocket, where I usually kept my phone, but it wasn’t there. Dad held it up. “Found it outside next to the clubhouse along with what I’m guessin’ isn’t your blood.” He looked me over carefully.
I felt my shoulders slump. Shit.
“I must’ve dropped it,” I whispered.
“You dropped it,” he said flatly.
“Yeah, I dropped it.”
“And the blood?”
“Well,” I hedged. I’d already dealt with Cian turning into a raging asshole. It was too early in the morning to deal with my dad and brothers becoming lunatics, too.
“Some motherfucker—” Cian began to say.
“Talkin’ to my daughter.” My dad cut him off. “You’ll get your turn.”
“Some idiot followed me outside,” I said quickly. “I don’t think no was a word he recognized.” The tension around me ratcheted up considerably, and I swallowed hard. “So, I made it very clear that I wasn’t interested.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know his name,” I replied honestly. I really couldn’t even remember his face.
“And you bloodied him up?” my dad asked doubtfully.
“Well, no,” I said slowly.
“Myla.”
“I practically twisted his balls off his body,” I muttered, my cheeks heating.
My brother Rumi let out a quick bark of laughter that immediately cut off.
“The blood, Myla.” My dad was losing what little patience he’d had to begin with.
“That was Cian.”
Then, I guess it was Cian’s turn to speak. “The blond fucker from Arizona,” he said when Dad turned to him. “Fucked him up and sent him on his way.”
“How fucked up?” my dad asked.
“You find any of his teeth?” Cian asked, jerking his head toward the side of the building. “Guessin’ he’s missin’ a few.”
“And you didn’t think you should let someone know?” My dad sounded frighteningly calm.
“Took care of it,” Cian replied steadily. “Didn’t think I needed to announce it.”
“And then what?” Dad asked, still using that calm tone that was freaking me the hell out. “Brought Myla back to your tent for a little after-action?”
“Dad,” I snapped, glaring at him.
“No,” Cian said. He was holding his body so still, he barely looked like he was breathing.
Dad looked at me from head to toe and lifted his eyebrows.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I spat, dropping the sleeping bag.
More than one of my brothers slapped their hands over their eyes.
“I’m fully dressed, you morons!” I yelled.
There were so many people watching our little conversation, I figured I might as well give them a show. It wasn’t as if I was going to wake everyone, my dad and brothers had already done that.
“She was sloppy drunk,” Cian said, ignoring me as I spun in a slow circle to show everyone that I was dressed. “Didn’t know where her tent was and sure as fuck wasn’t going to find it herself.”