Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 109853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
“I’d have left more than a blemish on him,” Trick rumbled. He’d have delivered some serious pain on the asshole.
After a long moment, Marcus said, “Hey, did she tell you that she and I had a little talk?”
Although Trick knew that his friend was changing the subject to help Trick cool his anger, he went with it. “She mentioned it. Reassured me that there’d be no awkwardness between you and her.”
“Some females wouldn’t accept our past so easy. They’d let jealousy eat them up. She obviously has enough confidence in you and what you feel for her to not worry about whoever came before her. That’s good. And it means you’ve done the right thing by not pushing her. Winning her trust and moving at her pace was what she needed. But I’m sensing that it’s getting harder for you not to push.”
“If you’re sensing it, she’ll be sensing it too.” She hadn’t said a word about it, though.
“Probably. You won’t have to hold out much longer, Trick. I’ve watched her with you. Watched her gradually soften. She used to frown at the way you constantly touched her. Now she leans into it. She never used to touch you back, but now she does. She’s also started to relax around the rest of the pack, but she doesn’t smile at us or talk as openly with us as she does with you. And if you’re not in the room with her, she’s uncomfortable.”
While the latter made Trick feel kind of smug, it also saddened him that she hadn’t yet fully relaxed with the pack. He understood it would take a little time, though.
“I like the way you are with her,” said Marcus. “And I have to say, I’m surprised, relieved, and impressed that she leans on you. A lot of females see that as a weakness. She seems to respect your need to take care of her, and she’s happy to let you do it—maybe because she’s never had anyone to lean on before and she’s not afraid to try it on for size. These are all good things that indicate that she’s happy with you and accepts that you’re her mate. She just needs to face whatever’s getting in the way of the bond, which I’m guessing is connected to the Newmans.”
Trick’s hands clenched around the wheel. “She’s still hoping she can find a way to make them accept her decision to have the pack in her life.”
“I don’t foresee that happening.”
“Neither do I, but they won’t think that they should feel guilty about that. They’ve always made her feel like the bad guy, and I fucking hate that. Oh, she sees that she’s not the one being unreasonable, but it still makes her feel like shit.”
“All you can do is exactly what you’ve been doing since you found her again—be there for her.” Marcus twisted his mouth. “We’re not far from her house. Why don’t we stop by and see her? I get that she’s busy, but it’s probably the only thing that will calm your ass down.”
Totally true. “She might not be back from the salvage yard yet.”
“Call her and find out.”
Frankie had just finished hauling the scrap metal out of the van and into the studio when her cell phone rang. She lowered the music and snatched the phone from the shelf. Trick’s name flashed on the screen. “Yup?” she answered simply.
“Hey, baby. You done at the salvage yard?”
She frowned at the strained note in his voice. “Yeah, I’m back at the house. Where are you?”
“About ten minutes away. I’ll be there soon to help you unload the stuff out of the van.”
Damn, he was too sweet. “I’m already done with that. But you’re still welcome to come.”
“I’ll be there soon,” he said, his voice a little warmer this time.
“Okay, I’ll—” The sound of a car engine made her turn. Seeing a blue Chevy Tahoe, she sighed. “Crap.”
“What?”
“Looks like Vance has decided to pay me a visit.”
Trick swore. “Do not let him in the house. Pull down the fucking studio door and ignore the bastard. I’ll deal with him.”
“I can handle him just fine myself.” She slowly walked out the side door as the car turned up the driveway that led to the studio. No way was she letting the bastard in her—“Wait, it’s not Vance,” she realized as she saw the license plate. Vance’s ended in “VCE.” “Motherfucker,” she spat, because the driver slammed their foot on the pedal and the tires screeched as the car zoomed right at her.
“Frankie? Frankie!” yelled Trick.
Without a thought she fled to the side door and turned into the studio, but the car followed her inside and screeched to a halt, clipping her leg hard enough to send her sprawling onto the concrete floor. Pain pounded up her leg and burned the heels of her hands. Grinding her teeth, she rolled onto her back. That was when the driver smoothly exited the car.