Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 64222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
And he plans to have me.
Of this I have no doubt.
Why? I don’t even know the answer to that question yet.
Though, I’m sure I’ll find out the hard way.
21
Lucas
“You really had to do that with both our mothers present?” Keir is now on the steps, where I haven’t moved since Chanel left. “I should shoot you in the fucking head, teach you a damn lesson. Maybe a piece of metal lodged in your skull might give you some fucking sense.”
“Piper already shot me.”
“Because you shot her first, dickhead.” He shakes his head, and the look he’s giving is enough for me to know I have totally and unequivocally fucked him off. “Enough of this bullshit you two have going on. It’s making everyone angsty. Fucking… Knock. It. Off. Do I make myself clear!” I roll my eyes and look away because if I show him my disrespect, Keir may very well put a bullet between my eyes.
“Now, are you going to tell me the real reason you’re fixated on her, or keep that from me as well?”
He always knows.
Lord knows why I try to keep anything from him.
I always end up telling him.
I hate lies. Despise them, actually.
But I have to lie to him. Only him.
And he hasn’t killed me yet.
Though, he may this time.
I’ve kept things from him—things he’s asked me directly about.
“There’s nothing.” There it is again, the lie that slips so easily from my lips as if it were put there by someone else.
Keir walks back up to the door, but I stay right where I am, willing her to come back.
“You better not be lying to me, Lucas.”
Then he’s gone.
My mother always warned me when I was young to never be like him—my father. “That is not a man you want to embody,” she would say. I listened, I did. But as a young man, you can’t help but want to be like your father, walk in his shoes, be the man he wants you to be.
My father is a fucked-up motherfucking asshole. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind about that fact.
But then again so am I.
Maybe if I’d listened to my mother, things might have been different.
Maybe.
Or not.
Guess I’ll never really know.
One thing I do know for sure, is that I want Chanel. More than I have ever wanted another woman. I’m not sure why, or even what I plan to do with that information yet.
She wasn’t factored into my life.
She was forced into it.
“Sir.” Brody opens the back door where I can usually be found in the club. He looks at me, and I can see his sister in those eyes. The only difference is her eyes are a little harder, mainly because they’ve seen more darkness. She’s had a completely different life than her brother. “Sorry to bother you, but Marcus asked if we should shut everything down for the night.”
“Yes,” I answer quickly.
He nods, and before he goes, I hold up my finger. “Where is your sister tonight?”
“I don’t know. Last time I saw her, she was getting dressed up to leave.”
“Leave?” I ask, wanting him to clarify.
“Yes. She had on what she used to wear.”
“You can go now.” I wave him off.
“Sir, what do you plan to do with my sister? I know you like her.”
“That’s none of your concern,” I bite back.
“I’m just asking because she can be rough. But if you try hard enough, she may let you in. But then again, she may not.” He chuckles at his own words, obviously his own mind is waring with what he really thinks.
“That will be all, Brody.” He nods again, and this time he disappears out of my office. I pull out my cell and text her, then grab my coat and leave through the back door with full intentions of finding her.
She fucking better not be back on the streets.
Shooting a text off to her, I wait for her to reply. I added my number to her phone under the contact of “Best fuck.”
Me: Where are you?
I hate that she doesn’t have an iPhone so I can see if she’s messaging me back. Maybe I’ll buy her one so I can keep track of her.
Chanel: None of your business. Who says you are the ‘best fuck.’
She replies quickly to my message, so I shoot her another text while driving.
Me: Chanel…
She sends me back a smiling face made out of punctuation marks, because that’s all her shit phone can do.
Me: I’ll find you, and when I do…
Chanel: Big boy.
Her words grate on me right through to my bones. I put my cell down and speed until I get to her place. Once I’ve parked the car, I get out, and take the stairs two at a time until I’m banging on her door rather loudly.
I’m thinking about kicking it down when Merci pops her head out from next door.