Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 111038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
There were guys everywhere.
I heard shouting from the back. Blaise’s voice, and laughter after.
There was a big mammoth guy, and a shorter mammoth guy. There was a guy with a scar on his face. A lean guy with tattoos all over him was coming out of a room in the back. He had his arms crossed over his chest.
I heard the tattoo guy saying, “Only you, Matteo.” He laughed, and one of the mammoth guys grinned at him.
I turned, and despite all my hoping and wishing, there he was.
The guy who I knew owned the Hummer outside looked over. He saw me, kept going, then did a double take. He jerked forward. “Aspen?!”
Damn.
I heard Blaise in the background. “Who did he say?”
And I said, “Hi, Nate.”
33
Aspen
Oh, boy. I was not ready for this.
The tattoo guy gave Nate a sharp look, but my brother was coming toward me. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
The tattoo guy came with him, but the rest stayed back, and I was thankful. There were a lot of guys in here—a lot of big guys, and they all looked scary. Time sort of slowed down as Nate approached, and I saw movement from a back room.
“What the fuck?” Blaise demanded.
He’d come out of a room, another guy trying to hold him back.
The breath left my lungs.
I swayed, gulping. His face was a mess of bruises. There was tape over one of his eyes, around the side of his eye, and still more at the corner of his mouth. The other side of his mouth was all black and blue. His shirt was bloody. All of it. There might’ve been a dry end or a corner, but for the most part: dark blood red.
That was my boyfriend, all broken.
He saw me, and a fire lit in his eyes.
“Aspen,” he gasped.
Cross’ head popped out of another room. He saw me and disappeared back into his room.
“Aspen?” Nate said.
The tattoo guy turned to look at me. “We talked on the phone?”
Nate frowned. “You did?”
I ignored them as I watched Blaise leave his room. He stalked past the guys to take my hand. He took the shirt in his other hand.
“Let’s go,” he said.
“Hey!”
“Hold up.”
“I don’t think so.”
A chorus of voices rose in protest.
“Aspen, wait.” Nate focused on my hand in Blaise’s. His jaw clenched. “The fuck is going on?!”
Blaise tugged me after him, opening the door. “Let’s go.”
“I said hold up!” That was the tattoo guy.
He reached out toward me, but Blaise growled and blocked him.
“Don’t grab her,” Blaise said, putting a firm hand on my hip. He turned his back on everyone and gentled his tone. “Let’s go.”
I glanced at my brother, but Blaise opened the door, and we were outside.
“Aspen, wait. Please,” Nate called. He jogged after us.
The tattoo guy remained on the doorstep, his arms crossed. That’s when I noticed he was gorgeous. But he seemed older, and I had a guy, so it didn’t really matter. But if I hadn’t been with Blaise, then whoa. You know?
As if reading my mind, the tattoo guy grinned.
“Aspen!” Nate barked. “I can just follow you home. It’s technically my house too.”
I cast a look over at Blaise. Nope. No room for compromise. He had to go. He couldn’t stay. I could see that in the way he kept clenching his jaw. A vein stuck out in his neck, and his hair was crazy, like he hadn’t been able to stop raking his hand through it. That wasn’t a good sign.
I called over my shoulder, “Find me there. Until then…” I motioned to Blaise as we cut over to where Maisie was parked. “I gotta go.”
At the car, I unlocked the doors and looked back. The tattoo guy was still watching.
Nate was at the edge of the sidewalk, his hands on his head. He looked perplexed.
I waved. “It’s nice seeing you.”
He held his hands in the air in a WTF motion, and then dropped them as I slid inside, shutting the door.
Blaise pulled off his very bloodied shirt and tossed it on the seat, dragging the one I’d given to him over his head. He tugged the hem down as he got inside. A second later, Maisie pulled out into the street, and we were off.
Blaise hissed, flexing his hand. He folded his bloodied shirt and wrapped the dry ends over his knuckles. He pulled it around to tie it in a knot and leaned back, breathing out a curse.
“Shit! My phone.” He patted his pocket and relaxed. “Oh. Monroe gave it back after you called and said you were coming.”
I cast a sideways look. “What happened back there? I thought you just went to get pizza.”
His eyes closed with another soft curse. “I’m sorry.”
I waited.
“I messed up.”
“Blaise,” I said gently.
“What?”
My hands tightened on the wheel. “Tell me what happened. Please.”