Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 56628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
With that, he stood back up to his full height and walked out of the bathroom.
I dropped my face into my hands, my heart racing in my chest at his words.
When did my love life become so fucking complicated?
I stepped into the Sons of Hell’s clubhouse, the familiar smell of cigarettes and liquor instantly infiltrating my nostrils. Tristan was walking close behind me, his vice president, sergeant at arms, and treasurer following close behind him, while his other men stayed outside.
I found Jessie working the bar, so I walked over to her, leaning over the bar to grab my own bottle of vodka. “Hey, gorgeous,” I greeted. “Where’s Joey?”
She jerked her head in the direction of the back where the combat ring was set up. “There’s a fight going on out there right now. Joey’s out there handling bids.”
I shot her a smile, and she snatched the bottle of vodka back out of my hands, her eyes playfully narrowing at me. “You’ve got to stop drinking all of the vodka, gorgeous,” she lightly teased.
I rolled my eyes at her. She only laughed as I walked off toward the back of the clubhouse, feeling Tristan following close on my heels. I pushed open the back door, and sure enough, two men were beating each other bloody in the ring, and Joey was handling the money as he held a conversation with his vice president, Charles.
Joey looked up when I stepped out of the clubhouse onto the gravel, a smile tilting his lips the slightest bit, warming that spot in my heart that would always solely belong to him.
I quickly walked over to him, and he instantly wrapped me up in his arms, pressing a kiss to my temple. I sighed softly, my body relaxing as I sank into his familiar, safe embrace. “Good to have you back home where you belong, pretty girl,” he murmured in my ear. He brushed his finger over a bruise on my cheek from the house explosion. “You alright?” Anger burned in his eyes for a moment before he smothered it.
I nodded at him. “I’m fine,” I assured him.
Tristan gripped my arm and pulled me back from Joey, his hands gripping my shoulders. I scowled as I reached up to brush his hands off. “Let me just make this clear,” Tristan said, his voice coming off calm but extremely cold. It sent chills down my spine just at the sound of it. “Adelaide is mine,” he snapped at Joey. “Keep your goddamn hands off of her.”
“I’m no one’s,” I snarled, ripping myself away from Tristan, throwing him a harsh glare as I did so.
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Remember what I told you?” he asked me. My belly swooped.
No matter who or what I have to destroy to get my way.
“You’re a fucking sadistic asshole,” I barked, my upper lip curling at him.
He smirked, but it lacked any humor, instead coming off cold. It made my stomach turn as I stepped back slightly into Joey. Joey silently settled his hands over my hips. “Always have been, Addy,” Tristan retorted. He narrowed his eyes where Joey was lightly gripping my hips, but he kept his mouth shut.
The urge to punch him was still strong though.
I turned to Joey. “I want to fight,” I told him. Spending the past couple of days with Tristan had me ready to explode. I needed to get bloody.
He inclined his head to me. “You sure?” I nodded. “You’ve been through a lot of shit lately, pretty girl,” he gently reminded me, knowing how I could get in the ring when I was overwhelmed.
I clenched my jaw, glaring at him. “Joey…” I warned softly. He was overstepping my boundaries.
He nodded with a shrug of his shoulders. “Alright then, pretty girl. I’m giving you five minutes to get in that clubhouse, change, and come back out. Rachel just came back, and she’s itching to fight you.”
I nodded once in understanding. Tristan gripped my arm when I went to move past him, and his eyes narrowed on mine when I looked up at him. “You’re not fucking fighting,” he snarled down at me.
I ripped my arm from his grip, glaring up at him as I did so. “You don’t fucking own me, Tristan. You want me? Then you take all of me just the fucking way I am, got that?”
I stormed into the clubhouse before he could get another word in. I was so sick of him trying to control every little damn thing I did. I’d found myself, found my fucking independence. I didn’t need a damn man dictating every single thing for me anymore.
And Tristan better figure that shit out quick.
After changing into a black sports bra and a pair of sweatpants, I slid on my black high tops and threw my hair up into a messy bun, not caring if it was perfect or not. I planned to have blood coating my hands by the time this match was over. How I looked as I did it was the least of my fucking concerns.