Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 79938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
My hand squeezed hers tighter, but then saving the situation, Cyrus stood up, shoving a hand into Edison's chest, catching him off-guard enough to make him fall back into the couch.
"I see why you're here," Cy said, giving her a sly smile. "You are finally reconsidering my marriage proposal. Well, Mrs. Harris, we can't get married with you in a torn dress now can we? Come on," he said as he moved close and I could literally feel some of the tension leaving Kennedy's body as he neared, "let's go get you something more comfortable to wear. I do believe I have a white t-shirt that could work as a gown. You would be stunning in a burlap sack," he added, taking her other hand in his, chattering away animatedly as only Cy could seem to do, and managing to lead her away.
It was the first real breath I took as I stood there with my brothers, understanding a heady thing in the air.
"Who?" Edison barked, standing again. In fact, everyone was standing suddenly. And every last one of them had matching masks of anger. They didn't even know her, they barely even knew me, but they wanted blood.
See?
Good fucking men.
Sugar was the first to move, going behind the bar, getting a bottle of whiskey, and pouring me almost a full glass.
"The mother fucker who owns the building she has her salon in," I answered, then took the glass and took it back in one pull.
"Did you show up while..." Roan started, a strangeness in his freaky eyes, something I didn't know and, quite frankly, was almost glad I didn't.
"No. She had scared him off before he could do any permanent damage," I said, and there was a noticeable exhale in the room, everyone losing a small amount of their rage.
"He's still gotta pay," Edison said, the normal growl of his voice even deeper, almost making it completely impossible to make out the words.
"He's gonna pay," I agreed, going back to the bar to get another glass.
He was going to pay, but not until I calmed Kennedy down, got her comfortable. So there was plenty of time for the alcohol to get out of my system.
"How are you going to make him pay without fucking up her financial situation?" Reeve asked, always being a calm, rational, voice of reason to all us other hot heads in the club. I couldn't say I had exactly bonded with the man; it was hard to get close to a porcupine, but I got the distinct impression that he was guarded for good reason. Given that Cyrus, fucking loudmouth he was, wouldn't even talk about what he had been through to make him how he was, we all assumed it was some heavy, dark shit.
See, this is where Maze was right when she lectured me every month.
This was where not revealing my past was a true conflict of interest.
That being said, this wasn't the time and place. Because not telling Reign, Cash, and Wolf first would be a serious fuck up code-wise. They needed to know first. Since they weren't around, I couldn't tell the others either.
"I got a plan for that, don't worry. Her business means the fucking world to her. She won't be losing that because of this bastard."
"Alright," Cyrus announced walking back in, jovial grin gone, leaving his face grim. It was almost startling to see Cyrus unhappy. Quite fucking frankly, I didn't know he was capable of being so. "I have her in a tub with a bunch of those bath bomb things the ladies leave around all the time. She's gonna want an icepack for her face, but I think she needed a couple minutes alone to relax. Tell me this bastard's cock is going to be ripped off and shoved up his own fucking ass."
Well then.
Cy had a dark side.
That was good to know.
See, Cy loved women. It was probably the biggest part of him. He loved fucking them, sweet-talking them, hanging out with them. It didn't always have to be sexual. He got along with all the girls club effortlessly, being very much like a big brother among them. Or little brother, depending on which girls club member we were talking about. It probably had a lot to do with having a sister he had had a hand in raising since his old man was killed. He simply got shit about them that maybe most of us didn't, was able to relate where we couldn't. And they picked up on that about him and were instinctively drawn to him because of that.
It made sense that his love of the fairer sex meant he would be pissed if something bad happened to them. Literally any of them. Because he loved them all.
"Not yet," I said, gesturing with my drink. "Can't leave her yet," I added, shrugging.