Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“I don’t,” she says quietly. “I just wish I did. You can look now.”
I look back to find her wrapped up in the blanket I gave her, sitting cross-legged on the cot in her cell. She looks smaller and so fucking young. “Are you hungry?”
She shrugs. “Thirsty.”
I grab a couple water bottles and some protein bars from the cabinet. “Here.” I toss them through the bars and onto her cot.
Melody picks up one of the bottles and holds it, rolling it back and forth between her hands like a fidget toy. “Rebel? I want you to know that even if we can’t be… whatever it was we were maybe becoming, meeting you guys, and the stuff we did together? I didn’t lie about any of that.”
I’ve known her for two days. Why does it feel like a break-up? And why do I fucking hate that so much?
“Good to know. You would make a good honeypot.”
Her grin actually looks real. “You think?”
“Are you fucking kidding me? Absolutely.”
She takes a sip of water, and her fingers pick at the label. “How did you end up here? With the Screaming Eagles.”
“Am I the one being interrogated?”
She pulls her blanket tighter around her and pulls her legs into it so she’s curled up on the cot. “Maybe you should be, for locking me up like this.”
I can’t help but fucking laugh. For everything she’s been through, she’s got a spine made of steel. “There isn’t much to tell, honestly. Not like some of the brothers. I was born into it.”
“Really?” Melody sits up straighter.
“Yeah. Not the Eagles. I’m originally from out East. My father’s in the Blue Shadows. We aren’t close. He’s kind of a dickhead, actually, but I grew up in the life.”
“So the dickhead thing, it’s genetic.”
I let out a snort. “Fucking brat. You’re not wrong, though.”
“Why didn’t you join your dad’s club? Is there a rule about that or something?”
“Nah, I could’ve. Being a legacy member like that, there’s a certain amount of prestige that comes with it, but only if you give a shit what those people think. I had no interest in standing in his fucked-up shadow for the rest of my life.”
“I’m almost surprised you didn’t become an accountant or something, just out of spite.”
“Shit, that would’ve been a choice, wouldn’t it? Nah, it wasn’t the life I hated, it was my father. He had no ambition in the club, treated my mother like shit, and thought the abso-fucking-lute peak of fatherhood was buying me a six-pack and a thirty-two-year-old hooker for my fourteenth birthday.”
Melody chokes on her water. “Wh-what?” The look on her face is priceless.
“Don’t worry. We took one look at each other and ended up playing cards until the beer finally got to me and I passed out. You know, thinking back, Amber did give me some decent advice that night.”
Logically I understand why Melody’s horrified, but when you have a fucked-up childhood, it’s funny what becomes almost a fond memory. It didn’t take that much longer before I started figuring out what to do with my dick, but I did it on my own with girls my own fucking age.
“That’s messed up.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t need your pity or anything. I did my share of fucking up. I left when I was seventeen and they were starting to talk about swearing me in for real. I got the fuck out of Dodge, traveled for a bit, and eventually ended up here.”
“Emily and her family… It’s not usually like that, is it?” She gives me a sidelong glance. “They seem so nice.”
Why am I telling her this shit? Has she really gotten under my skin enough that I want to connect even though I just tossed her in a cell? Am I trying to prove that I’m a decent human being? Or maybe to explain why I’m not.
“Eagle-eye gives more of a shit about us than a lot of presidents. It attracts the right kind of people. He respects his daughter and his old lady, and it shows. We’re mostly still fuck-ups according to the outside world, but in here? We have a shot, and some of the guys take it.”
“Would you want to? Take that shot someday?” she asks quietly.
I surprise myself by actually thinking about it. “I don’t know. I always swore that if I found someone like that, I’d want to keep them as far away from this as possible.”
“I didn’t see much of my dad when I was growing up. Mom pretty much raised me on her own.” She doesn’t look at me, but she’s talking. “She died last year. She was walking back to her car in a parking lot. The driver never even stopped.” There’s a world of heartbreak in her voice.
“I’m sorry.”
‘Your daddy must be so fucking proud.’ That’s what they taunted her with, back at the house. The only parent she has left.