Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
"That'd be good," I agreed. "Thanks."
"It's literally the least I could do," she said, shaking her head as she went about making a pot. "Did you get any sleep?"
"Nodded off here and there. Your sister is training to become a MMA fighter," I told her, getting a big smile out of the girl.
"She's always been like that. It's why I always crash on the couch when I stay over. She kicked me clear off the bed the last time we attempted to share it. I sprained my wrist," she added. "And she didn't even wake up. Cream? Sugar?" she asked, grabbing some mugs.
"No thanks. How'd you sleep?"
"Like the dead. It was actually kind of scary how tired I was. I was almost afraid to sleep."
"You've had a rough week," I said as I took the cup from her, watching as she pulled one of the nail desk chairs over to sit down on.
She ignored that, clearly not in the mood to talk about it. Which made sense. She didn't know me from Adam.
"Can you tell me what happened?" she asked. "I mean from Shy's side of things. I love her, but she tends to try to baby me. And she wouldn't give me all the ugly details."
"Alright," I agreed, taking a sip of the too-hot coffee. "The guys who took you made Shy agree to kill me. Well, one of the members of my club."
"Why?"
"That's a question I intend to ask them one day. Best guess, so it can't trace back to them."
"Shy would never kill someone."
"You'd be surprised what people will do for their loved ones. I walked into my bedroom to find Shy in my bathroom. And as soon as she saw me, she raised a gun and shot me," I told her, balancing my coffee mug on my thigh as I lifted my sleeve to show her proof.
"Oh my God," Belle said, eyes going huge. "But... but why are you here then?"
"My club, we're not in the business of hurting women. So we sat Shy down and asked her what was going on."
"But why would you help after she tried to kill you?"
"It was partially for the greater good, but also because helping Shy find you was the only way we were going to get access to these fuckers."
"Oh," Belle said, gaze lowering.
"Sorry if that is dark for you," I said, shrugging. "But it's the truth."
"It would have been," she said, glancing toward the door. "A week or so ago, it would have been too dark for me."
"But now?"
"But now I want first-row seats to one of you ripping their cold, evil hearts out of their chests," she declared, making my stomach drop at the ferocity in her voice. There weren't many things that would make a woman who—by their loved one's description—was soft and sweet and shy go dark and livid like that.
"Belle..."
"Don't," she said, looking up, shaking her head. There was a shimmer in her eyes, but the tears didn't fall. "Don't pity me."
"I don't pity you."
"They didn't... they didn't rape me," she said, face twisting up at the word on her lips. "But there were things."
"I'm going to make them pay for that."
"I can't ask—"
"You don't need to," I cut her off.
I gave leeway to a lot of criminals. You had to if you lived the lifestyle yourself. I understood why loan sharks and arms dealers and contract killers and even drug kingpins existed. Supply and demand.
But the fuckers who abused women and children?
There wasn't a speck of mercy in me for them.
The way I saw it, maybe if we ran through sex criminals on pikes, we'd see a lot fewer of them in the future. Fear was a powerful motivator. Even for the twisted kind of bastards who did those sorts of crimes.
"What do you need from me?" Belle asked, gaze lifting, finding, and holding mine.
Strong.
She may have been soft and sweet and shy like Shy said, but she was powerful too.
"Anything you can give me," I told her. "Descriptions. Names you overheard. Sounds or smells you may have encountered. Doesn't matter how small a detail it seems like, it could help in the long run. We—"
"Hey," Shy's voice broke in, still slow and thick from sleep. "Everything okay?" she asked, doing a small stretch, and I could feel the way her unused muscles trembled as she did so, a fact I needed to actively put from my mind to keep certain thoughts—and other things—from popping up.
She still didn't seem to notice that she was plastered to my side, or that my arm was around her.
As someone who woke up at a pin dropping—a skill honed through necessity since I was a kid—I'd always found people who came awake slowly fascinating. It still seemed like Shy was halfway in her sleep still as she gave a soft smile to her sister.