Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 68913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“You’re welcome, little sister.” I squeezed her hand gently. It felt so small and fragile in my own hand. Even back then, at seventeen, I was starting to take after my dad. He’s six foot six and extremely muscular—or he was. I wasn’t there yet, but I would be soon. And Delilah was so little and skinny back then.
Her eyelids drooped and her hand dropped away from mine. I tucked the covers over her once more and left the room quietly. I didn’t think much of the incident—not consciously, anyway. But I think that was the moment when Delilah really found her way into my heart…and the reason I became so protective of her.
Even when we both got older and she started being a major pain in my ass.
“What is it?” I asked my second in command, coming back to the present. “Come on, Kurt—spit it out. What has Delilah gotten herself into this time?”
“She’s…got a new job.” Kurt still wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“A job?” I frowned. “What kind of job?”
To be honest, my little sister isn’t the best at holding down steady employment. She flits from job to job like a butterfly sampling flowers. But she’s also in Grad school at USF studying to become a psychologist, so I let it slide. She has her trust fund that was set up by her blood parents before they were killed—it takes care of most of her expenses, allowing her to do pretty much whatever she wants. So I guess it’s amazing she works at all.
But this must be no ordinary job because Kurt looked more and more unhappy about having to tell me about it.
“What the fuck is it?” I growled. “What’s she doing?”
“She’s…she’s working at The Doll House,” he said at last.
“What?” I demanded.
The Doll House is a sleazy “Gentleman’s Club” not far from the airport. It’s frequented by assholes, lowlifes, and dealers—not to mention plenty of Weres. A bad place for anyone like Delilah to end up. The Royal Blood in her ancestry would make her attractive to all the wrong types. Though come to think of it, I didn’t like the idea of my littler sister being attractive to any type of man at all.
“What is she doing—waitressing?” I asked Kurt. “Bartending? What?”
“She’s…” He took a deep breath. “Cole, she’s stripping. I thought you ought to know.”
“What?” I was out of my seat and out from behind my desk in a heartbeat. “The fuck did you say?” I demanded. “Did you say she’s stripping?”
“Right now, in fact,” Kurt admitted. “I just got a call from one of our Alphas. He thought you ought to know your little sister was, uh, ‘shaking her money maker’ as he put it.”
He tried to smile, but the joke fell flat. I was already pulling on my suit jacket and straightening my tie. I dress to make an impression and I was damn sure going to make one on my little sister tonight—the impression of my hand on her ass!
“Get the car,” I snapped to Kurt, as I slipped my Glock into its holster under my arm. Thanks to Florida’s newly relaxed gun laws, I could carry it anywhere I wanted with no repercussions. I didn’t expect to have to use it but if any of those fuckers started getting handsy with my little sister, well—I might scare the fuck out of them.
Or I might just take them out behind the sleazy club and shoot them. Depended on my mood.
One thing was for sure, though—Delilah was about to be in very hot water.
2
COLE
“Can’t you go faster?” I demanded, as Kurt wove his way through the early evening traffic. Ever since everybody and his brother decided to move to the Sunshine State, it’s like rush hour all the goddamn time here in Tampa. Somehow we got put on several high profile lists as “the hottest new place to live” or some shit like that and the riff-raff started pouring in.
Tampa used to be a fairly decent place—if you don’t mind living someplace that’s hot and humid as a swamp nine months out of the year. But now that it’s gotten so crowded, it’s fucking miserable. And there’s new apartment buildings going up everywhere you look—which means it’s only going to get worse. I swear if my Pack wasn’t based here and I wasn’t the Packmaster, I’d leave this fucking place in a heartbeat. Maybe go up to New England where a male doesn’t feel like he’s sweating his balls off all the goddamned time. Even now in February we had high humidity and some warm days during what should have been the coldest part of the year.
But at the moment, I wasn’t worried about the heat and humidity, I was worried about Delilah and what she had gotten herself into this time.
This is my fault, I thought, as the black Escalade crawled through the bumper-to-bumper traffic. I should have paid her more attention after Mom and Dad died.