Chapter 20 Everett #2
But I’ve got to take my time. She knows I’m following her every move.
She’s questioning whether I’m watching her or not.
And when I’m going to collect what she owes me.
I wasn’t lying when I said the guys want answers.
If they find out she’s connected to Isabella, things could get messy.
The guys won’t hesitate to string her up, strip her naked, and wait for the wolves to attack.
A confessional. Wouldn’t that be ironic?
That’s what she does for the Lords. Something tells me they’d be willing to let her be the one strapped to the altar, no problem.
But I want her. Since the moment I saw her, this is what I’ve wanted. Does she owe me for saving her that night six years ago? No. But if that’s what gets me the girl, then I’ll take it. After my talk with Adam, I know that Eve finds herself in sticky situations all the time.
I don’t mind putting a collar on her and throwing her into a cell in the basement. But I want to see who she goes to first. Who tries to save her from me. There’s always a Lord behind the show. A puppet master, if you will. She might be someone else’s puppet, but she’ll be my whore.
I know that she’s connected to Bill. Do I believe they’re blood related? No. But there is definitely something there that needs to be answered. Adam only knew enough to make me have more questions. And at this point, I don’t even trust what he told me.
I give Sin a week before he comes to me demanding answers, wanting to know what I’ve found out from her.
A bleached blonde gets my attention, walking through the crowd, headed toward the bar.
You can’t miss her under the flashing lights.
It’s my lucky night. “One sec,” I tell the guys, getting up and making my way across the dance floor to the main bar while “Birthday Cake” by Rihanna blasts through the club.
Coming up behind her, my eyes drop to her red heels and slowly run up her black leggings.
They look to be leather and reveal every curve of her lean legs up and over her round ass.
Fuck, I want my cock inside it. They sit high on her thin waist, and she wears a white crop top that shows a sliver of her back.
Her hair is up in a high ponytail, showing off her delicate neck.
I step up to the bar beside her and remove my wallet from my back pocket.
“Her tab is on me tonight,” I inform the bartender, sliding my card to him.
She glances at me and rolls her pretty eyes. They light up under the neon lights. “I don’t need your money, Kash.” She reaches out and shoves my card across the bar, and it falls off the edge at my feet.
Bending down to pick it up, I chuckle. “Eve—”
She huffs, turning to face me, placing her hand on her hip. “Starting to think you’re obsessed with me.”
I smirk. “Oh, I am.” There is no denying her.
Stepping into me, her hand touches my chest as she tilts her head to the side. “Want to throw me onto the bar and fuck me right here?”
Her words catch me off guard. She was sick to her stomach after I fucked her at the run-down motel. I didn’t stick around the other night in her basement to see how she reacted once she came down, but if I had to guess, I’d say it was no different.
Now she’s willing to let me fuck her in front of an audience? She’s either trying to throw me off or she’s starting to come around to being my whore. I place my hand on her lower back, pulling her into me.
That grants me a tight smile. “Honestly,” I begin, and her smile falters, like she’s wondering what I’m about to say. “I’d never fuck you in front of others.” Her eyes search mine, but she’ll find no lie. “I won’t be sharing what’s mine.”
“Yours?” Her brows rise and she gives a rough laugh. “I don’t belong to you, Kashton.” She pushes me away and I allow it.
“It was my cum that leaked from your cunt, angel,” I remind her. “You don’t get any more mine than that.”
She looks away from me, swallowing. I’m going to push her past her limits. She’s going to learn there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Even if I have to make her uncomfortable.
Turning, she goes to walk away, but I grab her hand, yanking her back to me. Her green eyes glance up at me. “I need a second,” she says, licking her lips.
The tenderness in her words makes me pause. I can only imagine what she’s been through. I know what Saint and Haidyn and I went through when Isabella trained us. The thought of what Eve must have endured at Dollhouse makes my chest tighten.
I reach up and cup her cheek, but she pulls away. This time I don’t stop her when she walks toward the hallway that leads to the restrooms.
I return to my seat. The moment I sit down, the guys start laughing. “What’s so funny?” I ask, wondering what I missed. Picking up my beer, I go to take a sip when Grant answers.
“Dude, please tell me you’re not chasing that.”
I pause, the drink against my lips. “What?” I ask, giving him a chance to rephrase what he just said before he pisses me off.
“Everett,” he announces, and the sound of her name on his lips makes my hand tighten on the cold bottle. “She’s a fucking whore.”
The friend sitting next to him, Porter, slaps his shoulder. “Whores get paid, man. She’s free.”
“Who cares who she’s slept with?” Spencer says. “She’s useless.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” I slam the bottle down onto the table so hard that the beer foams over the top and onto my hand.
“He’s joking.” Porter laughs it off. “If you’ve got a wife, she’s the perfect kind of fuck on the side.”
I swing the beer bottle, meaning to hit him in the side of the head, but it’s slick from the alcohol, so I end up hitting the side of his face instead, knocking him back.
Spencer jumps out of the booth, grabs my shirt, and yanks me from my seat. He goes to hit me in the face, but I’m faster and ram my beer-covered fist into his nose.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Grant jump as he leaps onto my back. He slams me into the table. My arm knocks over a glass of beer. I grab a hold of it, spin around, and knock him on the side of the head with it.
A hand touches me, and I turn around, ready to swing, only to see Colt, Finn, Alex, and Jenks standing there. They break up fights, but they weren’t going to touch me.
“The fuck?” Tyson barks, heading toward me.
The bartender caught it and called up to him.
Fights happen all the time here. They’re always on the lookout.
“Kashton,” Tyson growls, looking over at the three men bleeding and rolling around on the floor.
“Get them the fuck out of here,” he barks at his minions.
“Where is she?” I snap, glancing around the club, trying to get my eyes to focus. The flashing lights make it hard to see.
“Who?” Tyson grabs my arm, but I yank it from his hold and storm toward the hallway that leads to the bathroom. “Kash, don’t—”
I shove open the women’s restroom door, and two girls standing at the counter turn and scream when they see me rush in.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Tyson growls, entering behind me.
A quick look tells me all the stall doors are open; she’s not in here. I spin around and leave as quickly as I entered.
“What in the fuck are you doing, Kash?” Tyson demands, running up behind me. “Do the guys know you’re here?”
I snort at his question. As if I need a fucking babysitter. Making my way to the back door, I walk outside and scan the parking lot for her car, but I don’t see it. She bailed. I wasn’t going to leave without her after that, but I can’t stay here now.
“Kash?” I hear Tyson call out. The bastard is still following me.
“I’m leaving,” I throw over my shoulder, walking up to my bike.
My adrenaline is running, my breathing erratic. Fuck, the fact that they even know her name pisses me off. How do they know her? Have they paid to fuck her? Did they rape her? I should have fucking stabbed them to death right there and then.
“Kash, wait—”
Straddling my Ninja H2R, I turn it on, rev the engine, and squeal the back tire as I exit the parking lot. I need some fresh air.
I come to a stoplight and pull out my cell, connecting it to my earbuds, and “Wasteland” by 10 Years begins to play. When the light turns green, I take off, racing to get onto the highway.
The cool night air hits my face, and I weave in and out of the light traffic, not caring how fast I’m going.
My cell ringing pauses the song a few times, and I know it’s my brothers.
Tyson is the father we all deserved to have, but right now, he’s tattling on me.
Calling Haidyn and Saint to fill them in on what I did.
I adjust myself, sitting back on the bike, slow and shift into first gear, then open up the throttle.
I pop a wheelie in the fast lane before slamming it down and taking the next exit.
I take a quick look at the intersection coming up, ensuring no one is there, and run the red light, taking a right and speeding down the road.
A few minutes later, I’m taking curves faster than I should be down a two-lane road when I see headlights coming up fast behind me.
They flash a few times, but I ignore them.
If it’s a cop, I’m prepared to outrun him.
Not because I’m afraid of them but because I’m not in the mood to put up with one tonight.
I’m still on edge and need to fight. I’d rather run from a cop than beat the shit out of one. That will definitely piss off the guys.
After about a mile, they finally pass me and slam on their brakes.
Fuck.
I yank on my front brake so hard that it brings my rear end up while the nose goes down into a stoppie position. I place both boots on the ground as the back tire slams onto the road.