Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 145942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 730(@200wpm)___ 584(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 730(@200wpm)___ 584(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
“Oh yeah?” he questions, his arm snaking around my waist as a devilish smirk tears across his handsome face. “Why don’t I start working off my debt right fucking now?”
CHAPTER 8
Carver’s phone blares through the stolen SUV just as the sun peeks over the mountains in the distance. We’ve been on the road for the past two hours and so far, the whole long-distance road trip thing is starting to wear on my nerves.
I hate road trips, and I hate them more when I have a broody as fuck man sitting beside me who refuses to let me blast music and sing at the top of my lungs because apparently, it’s too fucking early in the morning for that bullshit.
Fuck him though. There’s no other way to road trip, otherwise it’s not a road trip—it’s just sitting in a metal box with wheels for hours on end. Though, if I’m being completely honest with myself, the reason for his sour mood probably has something to do with me asking him to stop at the first gas station we passed, claiming I got my period and asking him to go in to get me hoochy-coochy wipes and glow in the dark tampons. He didn’t look too fucking impressed when he came striding out of the gas station, telling me he had to ask the chick behind the counter to help him find it, only to have her laugh in his face, but fuck, it was some great entertainment and went a long way in making me feel better.
I think I’m going to get ‘Petty Bitch’ tattooed across my ass just to remind the guys where my true nature lies, but if I really think about it, perhaps the petty train is the way to go. The boys are big enough to handle it, and damn, it would make me feel a shitload better than the one-on-one sit-down chat about feelings the guys would prefer to give me.
Carver scoops his phone up and winces as he looks over the screen. “Fuck, the boys want to video chat.”
I scoff, listening to the irritating sound of his ringtone. “They’re probably checking that I didn’t try to kill you in your sleep.”
Carver chuckles to himself before quickly glancing my way. “You couldn’t kill me,” he mutters, “even if you tried, but the idea is amusing so thanks for that.”
“Would you wipe that ridiculous smirk off your face and answer the damn call? Your ringtone is the equivalent of nails on a chalkboard.”
“In that case, I might just wait a second.”
“Fuck me in the ass,” I grumble, snatching the phone out of his hands and pressing accept on the call before fixing my face with an irritated scowl for good measure.
Cruz’s face appears on the screen and before I can even get out a snappy, bullshit threat, he rushes out with a desperate, “How’s my girl?” before his eyes go wide, realizing that the girl in question is staring back at him and isn’t too fucking happy about it.
“Ah, fuck,” Carver mutters under his breath. “Here we go.”
“YOUR FUCKING GIRL?” I demand, the fury bubbling deep within me. “Where the fuck do you get off calling me your girl? Maybe you’ve forgotten, but only a few short days ago, your bitch ass tried to blow me up, you betrayed me, you turned your back on me and left me in the dark, scared for my fucking life. I’m not your fucking girl anymore. You don’t get the right to call me that.”
“Fuck, babe. I’m sorry. I thought Carver explained everything to you.”
I choke on my own breath. “He sure as fuck explained everything to me, and if you think that’s magically just going to take away the betrayal that sits in my chest every time I think of you guys, you’ve got another thing coming. Nothing will change the fact that you blew up the cabin and left me behind, broken, bloodied, and bruised. I can’t magically forget about all of that. Whether or not you had good intentions and were doing everything in your power to save your brothers and sisters, it doesn’t change anything.”
Cruz just stares, unsure of what to say as I watch his heart break before me. “Babe, please,” he begs, the guys’ faces coming into view behind him. “You have no fucking idea how sorry I am for all of that, we all are, but we had three seconds to come up with a plan, and yeah, it was a fucking shitty one, we get that and will spend the rest of our lives trying to make up for that. Every fucking second since the cabin went up in flames, all I’ve been able to think about is how badly we fucked up.”
My gaze shifts out the window, unable to handle the pain that comes pulsing out of Cruz’s heavy gaze. I give myself a second, desperately trying to compose myself before losing control … Well, more so than I already have. “Why’d you call, Cruz? Carver’s driving. He can’t video chat right now.”