Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 32732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 164(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 164(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
He shrugged at me, but his eyes were on the fight happening in front of us. “Not my call, girly. Still Blaze’s call. Until you’re sober, you’re not fighting. And with one fucking look at you, I can’t tell you’re basically floating in the fucking sky.”
I was going to fucking kill Blaze.
I clenched my fists at my sides. “You know what? You can tell Blaze I said to go fuck himself,” I sneered.
“Why don’t you tell him yourself, sweetheart?”
I swung around to face Blaze. He was shirtless, his large body on display. Every muscle was hardened and toned to perfection. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was on steroids. But everyone knew how hard Blaze worked out.
God, he was absolute perfection. And as always, his dark hair was cut and styled perfectly, ever the perfect image of a respectful businessman, even if he was shirtless and wearing a pair of gray sweats, ready to pummel someone’s face into the concrete.
“Go fuck yourself,” I sneered at him.
He wrapped his hand around my throat, a smirk twitching at his lips. I swallowed, and I knew he could feel the movement beneath his hand. My core clenched. His eyes darkened, his pupils taking over some of his irises. I squeaked when he yanked me closer to him, so our bodies were just barely brushing.
“Don’t play games with me, little girl. You’ll lose.”
“Think my thigh is proof enough of that,” I managed to get out. My voice sounded strangled. Blaze wasn’t being gentle with me.
“Well, well, well,” a familiar voice spoke up from behind me, “you’ve got a thing for violence still, hm, Montana?”
My body froze. Suddenly, Blaze seemed like the kindest man in the world to me. Chills raced down my spine.
Jayden had led to my downward spiral into drugs. I’d used them to put myself into a haze. Jayden was an abusive son of a bitch. Our relationship had lasted mere months—not even a full six months—but he’d done his damage. And he’d left me with the mental scars of it.
Blaze yanked me closer to him, his eyes narrowing over the top of my head. His other hand flattened against my back, holding me to him. It was almost protective.
“Thought I fucking made it clear that you’re not allowed here,” Blaze snarled.
“Free country, brother.”
Blaze’s hand flexed around my neck before he forced it to relax some so he wasn’t choking me. My heart was thundering in my chest. The tightening of his hand around my neck hadn’t been aggressive—that had been a protective touch, one that was making my head fucking reel.
“My fucking property,” Blaze growled. “Fuck off before I make you.”
“Just wanted to say hi to Montana—”
Blaze released me, but just as quickly, I heard a crunch of bone as flesh smacked against flesh. Jayden roared in pain. Two men had already sauntered up wearing black suits, earpieces in their ears. “Get him the fuck out of here,” Blaze ordered.
He turned back to face me. Without a word, he traced the handprint around my throat before locking his eyes on mine. “He fucking comes near you again, Montana, and I’ll fucking kill him.”
With that, he disappeared into the crowd.
I jerked in surprise when someone’s hand wrapped around my arm. John appeared beside me, Jonah on his other side. “Another altercation with Blaze?” John asked me, his eyes following Blaze as he moved easily through the parting crowd. It was like watching a god amongst peasants.
I shrugged. “Something like that,” I muttered. I looked up at Jonah this time. “You fighting tonight?” Didn’t look like he was. He was wearing jeans and a plain black long-sleeve shirt.
He shook his head. “Came to fetch you. Let’s go.”
I gritted my teeth, digging my heels in. “The fuck do you mean you’re coming to fetch me?” I demanded to know.
“Time to get clean, Montana,” he ordered.
With that, Jonah threw me over his shoulder. I glared at my brother as he followed behind us. “I fucking hate you,” I seethed.
He shrugged. “You’ll thank me later,” he assured me.
I highly fucking doubted that.
9
Montana
The first week of detoxing was hell. John kept me locked up in his house all day. If I went anywhere, he was glued to my hip.
He forced me to detox. And it had been absolute hell.
Jonah had stuck around the first week, sending me mixed signals as he did so. I couldn’t tell if the man did or didn’t want me again. I sure as hell wanted him, but between vomiting and basically crawling out my fucking skin, I didn’t particularly have the time or the headspace to deal with anything Jonah might want from me.
After the first week though, Jonah just . . . disappeared.
And now, at the end of the third week, my period was late, and I was throwing up. I was praying to anyone that would fucking listen to me that this was some fucked up prolonged side effect of detoxing. Because I couldn’t handle being pregnant. I wasn’t sure if I’d survive it, honestly.