Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
I gas it uphill, making a slow right over the curve, exhaling when I don’t see any trace of her or her bike.
Heading down past the docks, I sweep the mill district, spotting something in the road. I hit the brakes, hearing my tires skid across the pavement.
I shift into Park and open my car door. Putting one foot out, I stand up and gaze down at Dylan, laying in the middle of the street. In the intersection.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
I would be concerned that she was hurt, but her bike is parked at the curb, and her arms are splayed straight out, her legs crossed at the ankles, and she has a peaceful look on her face as her hair flies across her cheeks.
I look around, not a soul in sight. No cars. “What are you doing?” I call out to her.
She doesn’t open her eyes, and I walk, stopping when I’m standing over her. My body hums, my eyes drawn to the sliver of bare waist below her jacket.
“Did you know the Pirates were going to crash the flood party?”
I don’t even really care. She’s so fucking stunning right now. Dangerous and silly and alive.
She blinks, looking up at me. “The Pirates are there?” she asks.
And I know she had no idea.
“What are you doing?” I press again.
A little smile pulls at her lips. “All the streets are empty,” she tells me. “I always wanted to try this.”
And despite the frustration I seem to always have these days—the worry, the aggravation, and the confusion—I want nothing more than for this moment to last all night. God, she’s amazing.
Reaching down, I lift her up to her feet, because she can’t stay in the street, no matter how much I want her to be happy.
She dusts off her clothes. “I don’t need protection, Hunter.”
I know. It won’t stop me from wanting to be near her, though.
She looks down, and I don’t like the look on her face.
Something’s going on with her today. What happened? Why hasn’t she sought me out?
“It’s time for me to go home,” she says calmly.
Home.
The Falls?
What does that mean?
She says it with finality, like she’s done and found whatever she was looking for or made her peace with not finding it, and she’s ready for this to be over.
What happened?
“Dylan—”
But I don’t have a chance to ask her. Kade’s black truck skids to a halt next to us, and I spin around in time to see Dirk and Stoli rush out, grab Dylan, and haul her into the back seat.
“We’re taking her back!” Stoli shouts, slamming the door and hanging out the window, laughing.
There are two other guys in the truck, but I don’t know if any of them are Kade.
They speed off, and I watch.
But not for long.
Reaching into my pocket for the only thing I have, I clutch my phone, rear back my hand, and launch it like a fucking football right into the driver’s sideview mirror. It shatters the glass, he slams on the brakes, and I dig in my heels, charging up to the goddamn truck and yanking the back door open.
“You prick!” Dirk bellows, jumping out.
But my eyes are only on Dylan as she sits in the back, wide-eyed. I grab her legs and pull her to me, lifting her into my arms.
Dirk clutches my shoulder, but just then, Farrow and the boys pull up.
I walk away from all of it.
“So nice of you to make this easy,” Farrow taunts them, and a fight ensues behind me.
But I just keep going. All I see is her.
I guide her legs around my waist, holding her tightly.
“He had you all to himself for a year,” I tell her, looking up into her storm blue eyes. “You’re mine for another week.”
I pull the handcuffs out of my drawer, slam it shut, and lean over my bed, throwing her down onto it. I catch the back of her head before it hits anything and then grip her wrist, fitting a cuff around it.
I don’t know what happened now, or where her mood is coming from, but I’m keeping her.
“Hunter!” she yells, pulling against the restraint.
I loop the small chain around a bar in my headboard, snatching up her other wrist and clicking the second cuff on it.
She growls, tugging at the bindings. “A few days ago, you were telling me to leave,” she spits out.
And you should’ve listened. You’re not crossing that bridge tonight.
Not for eight more nights.
I ball my hands into fists, hot blood rushing through my body as I stare down at her naked tummy, her jacket rising with her arms above her head.
She breathes hard, but her expression softens as she tries to reason. “Hunter…”
Twisting her wrists inside the cuffs, I see her skin start to redden.
“I would think you’d have your hands full enough without me here,” she tells me. “Why is it that you’re both allowed to have a life and I’m not? Why can’t I be alone with a guy like Constin when you had a girl in your bed all night?”