Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“Bren?” Liv said, concern thick in her voice. “Are you okay?” She hurried over and placed a hand on Brenna’s arm. “Shit, your skin is cold, even though it’s about a million degrees in here. And you’re pale as hell. Brooke, c’mere.”
Brooke rushed over. “Brenna! What happened?”
She looked up into the concerned faces of her two—what? Acquaintances? Clients? Friends? She needed to tell them, if for no better reason than to erase the fear in their eyes, but words failed her. Instead, she held her phone out to Brooke.
The ladies huddled together, reading the fucked-up texts.
“Oliver?” Liv asked with a frown as she read who the messages were from. “Is that…”
She nodded.
“Oh shit.” Liv’s eyes grew stormy.
“We need to go.” Brooked snapped to attention. “We need to take this over to the guys. Now.”
Nodding, Liv said. “Your right. The quicker they see this, the better.”
“I don’t know…” Brenna’s brain couldn’t catch up with the conversation. She was still stuck in the shock of Oliver assuming he could hand over some cash and get her back.
What kind of monster was he?
Gripping her upper arms, Brooke leveled her a grave stare. “Look, I know this is crazy, and we barely know each other, but you need to trust us right now. The best thing we can do is take this to the club. They’ll work together to figure it out in a way that keeps you the safest and makes sure Oliver can’t hurt you now or ever.”
Hurt her? “I don’t think he’d hur—”
“He basically sold you to the club, Bren. I say this with love, but don’t be stupid. If our men weren’t as honorable as they are, your situation would be very different right now.”
Beside Brooke, Liv nodded with a solemn expression. “She’s right, Brenna. You know she is.”
Right. Why did she insist Oliver wouldn’t hurt her when the evidence proved otherwise?
Brenna blinked and shook out the cobwebs. “You’re right. Yes, of course, you’re right.” She reached out and squeezed Liv’s hand. “Thank you. I trust you guys. Let’s go.”
Please don’t let me make a devastating mistake.
“Good.” Brooke gave her a smile that was probably supposed to ease her mind, but concern still shone from her gaze, negating any comforting effects.
Knowing this was the right choice didn’t eliminate the fear that she was a fluffy rabbit walking into a hungry lion’s den. Unease sat in the pit of her stomach like an anvil.
“Let’s go.” Liv grabbed her hand and practically yanked her shoulder from the socket as she tugged her out of the building. How the woman walked so fast on those spiky heels would be a mystery Brenna never solved. She’d be in a wheelchair with two broken ankles if she tried to move half as quickly in half-as-tall shoes.
“Sweetie, slow down!” Brooke called as she jogged to keep up.
For Brenna’s part, she appreciated the women’s take-charge attitude. Until the shock wore off, she didn’t trust herself to make rational decisions.
A loud woof preceded a giant German Shepard charging their way. Brenna’s heart leaped into her throat.
“Ray, sit,” Brooke called.
The dog immediately plopped its fuzzy butt on the ground.
“Whoa,” Brenna muttered. “He listens well.”
“My primary job is as a dog trainer. That’s my baby, Ray. He’s the best boy in the world. Saved my life on more than one occasion. Literally.”
Brenna glanced at Brooke from the corner of her eye. Those were stories Brenna would want to revisit later. She looked at the dog with newfound respect. Someone had told her the women in the club all had pasts that were complicated and fraught with trauma. Maybe once her life got back on track, she could stay in contact with the ladies and learn more about them. They seemed like they’d make good friends, and Brenna would love to be involved with the shelter more permanently.
As she drew closer to the clubhouse, still at a near sprint, a man ran out onto the porch. Brenna recognized him as Jinx, the intimidating giant who’d been present the night Oliver tried to destroy her life.
“Saw you all charging over here out the window. You okay?” he shouted from the porch.
“Brenna got a text from Oliver!” Liv called back.
“Shit. Okay. Get your sexy asses in here, and I’ll round up the boys.” He disappeared into the building before Brenna could register the comment regarding their rear ends.
They ran the last few feet to the clubhouse and up the steps to the porch. As Liv yanked the door open, Brenna came to a dead stop, panting. Brooke slammed into her from behind.
“Shit! Sorry.” She also breathed hard from the run.
Her shoulder protested as Liv tried to continue forward. The other woman stopped and turned, keeping her hold on Brenna’s hand. “What’s wrong?”
What was wrong?
The thought of going in there terrified her. Every movie she’d ever seen with bikers displayed the clubhouse as a den of sin and debauchery, and a place where she’d have to be hypervigilant and prepared to fight off aggressive advances when her “no” wouldn’t hold any weight, and she’d have no voice. Hell, it’s what Oliver thought. It’s why he’d gifted her to the club.