Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 148238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
“You disappeared for eight years, yet you’re still mine. Still the redheaded girl who stole my heart.” His eyes were broken—a faded muddy green.
I smiled weakly. “Living a life where I was happy, if not lost, isn’t the same as being someone’s slave.” Sighing heavily, I said, “You have to find them. You have to save those women you sold.”
Grasshopper laughed coldly. “Do you honestly think Kill would sell innocent women into a life of horror?”
My head snapped up.
Mo said, “Those women were handpicked. Not for their looks—although they were pretty hot—but for who they associated with.”
My skin broke out in goose bumps.
“They were his whores, Cleo,” Arthur whispered. “We took any girl who’d slept with him since my mother died a year ago.”
Diane.
The softly spoken woman with dark hair so much like her son’s. The scents of fresh baking would drift across the courtyard, tantalizing my taste buds and making me skip across to Art’s house and plonk myself in her kitchen with my legs dangling behind the breakfast bar.
My hand slapped over my mouth in despair. “Art, I’m so sorry.”
I wanted to ask how she died but Arthur struggled to remain collected. His frayed self-control was near breaking point. He didn’t move or show any sign of pain, bottling it deep, where it festered just like the pain he’d felt for me. But I knew.
“We took his whores to teach him a lesson. When he finds out those same whores are now servicing other presidents of rival Clubs, he’ll bring a war down on his own head.”
Since when did having bad taste in lovers become a crime payable by sexual slavery?
My spine bristled with unfairness. I couldn’t keep the disapproval or disgust from my voice. “And me? What stock were you trying to buy? Why was it so important?”
Arthur sighed. “That’s tied up in the part that’s too involved to discuss in a diner—especially with other factions in hearing distance.”
I opened my mouth to argue. I wanted to know everything. Immediately.
Grasshopper put his hand on my arm, hushing my protest. “Let it rest, Cleo-Sarah. Kill’s a good man who fucking adores you. He’ll tell you everything.” His blue eyes landed on his Prez; ice melted down my spine at the secrets passing between the two. “You’ll get your revenge, dude. Your happily ever after will be complete and those who wronged you will rot in the ground.”
The sentence throbbed with righteousness. Undercurrents of promises and plans I wasn’t privy to thickened the air.
No one said a word.
“He’ll tell you everything,” Grasshopper finally repeated, glaring at Arthur. “Won’t you?”
Slowly and reluctantly, Arthur nodded. “I’ll tell you everything, Cleo. And I’ll hope to God you’ll understand.”
It wasn’t until afterward—after a greasy dinner of cheeseburgers and sodas—that I realized two things were missing.
My world had broadened, my horizons vast and beckoning as memories returned and secrets were revealed, but it was the answers not spoken that kept fear alive in my heart.
Answers that could liquidate my entire world.
The heavy warmth of Arthur’s jacket kept my body from plummeting into arctic chills as shock tried to take hold, but my determination only grew stronger.
I have to uncover what he’s hiding.
Tonight had swept my past upside down and twisted it inside out.
But I still didn’t know why or how I’d been kidnapped. I’d been barefoot and blindfolded—just like the other women. I’d been burned by Lighter Boy. How?
My fingers involuntarily went to the singe on my forearm. It was such an odd feeling. To remember parts—to feel whole after mimicking a sieve with missing pieces for so long.
It was a tease to remember certain things and not others.
It wasn’t fair.
I wanted everything.
I wanted to gaze upon the full story that was my past and present.
However, that question paled in comparison to the one echoing around my head. The one I couldn’t avoid.
The one that would shed light on the horrible despicable truth.
A man who practically raised me killed my parents out of greed. He destroyed my future, turned his back on loyalty—and for what?
For a Club that meant nothing without friends to love.
No one shared my blood. My bloodline and lineage were over.
I was the last Price to ever hold the surname.
But through all the horrible revelations, one stood out that had been brushed under the rug and kept locked deep in the unmentionable cellar.
Where had Arthur been that night?
And why hadn’t he been the one to save me?
Chapter Twenty-One
I’d been so afraid love would soften me. That it would halt my thirst for revenge and drive me from my coldhearted determination to make them pay.
But it didn’t.
If anything, love made my determination even stronger.
I throbbed with the urge to decimate those who had done what they did.
I wanted to avenge not only myself, but Cleo, too.
It would be my gift to her.
A gift of closure from our terrible past.