Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90085 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90085 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
My eyes widened. Was he serious?
“All right,” Than replied.
“Send me whatever Crew sends her.”
“He put his number in her phone because he didn’t have his phone. He didn’t get her number,” Than told him.
“I’m pretty sure he texted himself from my phone before handing it back to me,” I said, not looking at him.
“I missed that,” Than replied.
Yeah, well, Than, you don’t know everything.
“Take her phone. Block his number, then delete it from her phone.”
“Will do.”
“I’ve got another call,” Linc told him.
“Yeah, all right.”
The line went dead.
“Perhaps you should look through my school laptop and check all my notebooks. Just in case I’m hiding something.” The bitterness in my tone was thick, but at least it hid the hurt I didn’t even understand. Why was I feeling hurt or betrayed? It wasn’t like either of those men liked me.
I missed my momma. Tears stung my eyes at the thought of her, and I closed them to keep any from breaking free. I couldn’t think about her right now. I had to be strong.
Eleven
Than
I scrolled through her phone, and it was exactly the same as it had been when I went through it on Friday night. The only addition was that Melody and Peg had both checked on her, and she’d told them the same thing.
Me: I’m good. Jericho gave me a place to stay and helped me enroll in school here. Thanks for everything.
That was it. Nothing about the blackmail or that she was staying in a cabin with no freedom to live her normal life. The stupid text that Crew had sent was deleted now, but it had said:
Crew: Hey, beautiful. I’ll call you tonight.
No, fucker, you won’t. I blocked your ass.
Glancing over at the closed bedroom door, I felt guilty, and I didn’t even know why. But, damn, the way she’d looked in the truck before she closed her eyes and turned away from me was…shattered. Lost. Fuck, I didn’t know, but it had made my gut feel twisted up.
She had come inside silently, gotten herself a bottle of water and a banana, then gone into the room. That had been three hours ago. A banana wasn’t enough food for her to stay in there all night. Jayda would be dropping dinner off soon, and she’d need to come out and eat.
Why did I care if she came out and ate?
Because you’re worried about her. The voice in my head stated the truth that I didn’t want to admit.
But there were two sides to every story, and we’d never really gotten hers. We were going on one side, and not because Jericho Baskin was a good man, but because the family used his political power to our advantage.
Linc didn’t care what her story was. He wanted to keep Baskin’s reputation clean. That was our side of the deal. I shouldn’t care, but, dammit, I did. And not because she was the first twenty I’d ever laid eyes on. I’d disliked her on sight and believed the worst about her because if I hadn’t…well, I’d have probably acted like Gathe.
I’d gone through her things today while she was gone. Trying to find something that would end this. Although the entire time I was doing it, I dealt with fucking anxiety that I would find something. Freeing Baskin of her hold over him would mean she was on her own. Alone. I couldn’t say I would be okay with that. Even if I shouldn’t give a fuck.
Hunting for shit on her only made me more curious about her. Nothing was in there that could be used against her.
One box had her panties—which, I’d admit, I took my time going through them. She had real good taste in her undies. I especially liked the pink satin and black lace thong that had a tiny bow on the front, where it was a see-through mesh. And she did own a motherfucking bra. One. One bra. A pale pink lace thing with underwires. Like I had already guessed, she was a D. Thirty-four D, to be exact. Beneath all that, I found photographs. Her momma had been hot, but not on Montana’s level. A folded-up Guns N’ Roses concert T-shirt that looked like it was an ’80s original, some pressed and dried red roses, and an ornate handheld mirror.
The next box was full of shot glasses that had places on them. That was weird as fuck, but whatever. When you were that hot, you could get away with odd shit like that.
The third one was books. All kinds. She didn’t seem to prefer one specific genre.
Her suitcases held her clothing and shoes. There was a makeup bag in the small corner bathroom area that had very little makeup and her toiletries.
The harder I’d dug, the more Montana had looked more like the victim rather than the villain.