I sit motionless and wait, praying that he calms down soon. The angrier he gets, the longer it’s going to take me to get out of here. I just want this nightmare to end, but everything I say that’s meant to make things better just ends up making them worse. So I decide to just not say anything else.
He huffs and grumbles for several more minutes before finally turning to face me again. “Let’s get a few things straight—I am not a patient man. I’ve been kind so far, but make no mistake about it, I do not like improvising. You want to tell the entire fucking world that you fucked me, go right ahead, baby. You tell everybody I put my dick inside you and pummeled you so hard you’re having trouble walking today. You tell everybody how I fucked you hard and fucked you raw. In fact, you want my dick so badly, take it.”
I cover my face with my hands the moment he reaches down and starts to unbuckle his belt. A moment passes before he says, “Thought so.” And then he disappears. It’s minutes later when Lisa comes into the room. She doesn’t say much except that she’s going to help me up and out of the house. With no little amount of embarrassment, Lisa tells me that my injury is little more than a nasty bruise on my hip from where Grady fell on me and his gun slammed into me, and a mild bullet graze. Even if I’d only been going on with the dramatics in my head, I’m still mortified that I thought I’d been badly shot. All in all, she’s really quite kind about it.
On my way out, I don’t see Grady or Cheyenne at all. I tell myself that it’s for the best. Really, in all the years I’ve distantly fantasized about the club and the men in it, never did I think I’d be in this position. I walk gingerly to my car, aided by Lisa, and when I climb inside, I find that it’s been cleaned, with no sign that I was bleeding all over the seats just yesterday.
“Someone will be by with the first payment in a few days,” she says. She’s got her hand on the outside handle of the open driver’s side door.
“Oh, I don’t really want the cash. I just want to be left alone,” I say.
“Word of advice? You want to be left alone—take the money and be done with it. Arguing is only going to invite trouble,” she says. I go to defend myself, but she holds her hand up and shakes her head. “I’m just the messenger.”
She shuts the door and steps away from the car. I take that as my cue and pull out of the driveway then drive slowly away from the Grady residence and back to my normal life.
Chapter 9
“YOU’RE SURE— YOU don’t have any ibuprofen?” I ask Margot as I rub my temples. Mr. Beck has been in his office with Jeremy Whelan for the last ten minutes and it’s starting to get loud. It doesn’t matter that the door is shut and his office is all the way down the hall. I can hear practically every single word of what’s being said. Jeremy, a senior who is unlikely to graduate, is asking for a work permit. For the fourth time. He’s awfully persistent and if I didn’t know his story, I might think it a little weird that he wants a job so badly. Most kids are reluctant to work, but Jeremy’s sister, Nic is the only family he has as far as I know. Nic works with Mindy and neither of them make much. I just wish Mr. Beck would give Jeremy a break— even if the kid is being a real pain in the butt.
My elbows are resting on my desk and I’m hunched over. Everything aches from my ache to my head to my soul. Even the no-longer-bruised spot above my hip aches. It could be cramps or I could be crazy. With how awful I feel right now, it doesn’t really matter. The only thing that matters is that apparently nobody in this godforsaken building has any pain killers and Mr. Beck’s voice carries. I look at the clock on the wall and see that they’ve been in there arguing for longer than I thought. It’s been closer to fifteen minutes of straight-up bitching.
“Sorry, girl,” Margot says.
“Hey Margot, what the hell is actually going on in there?” I ask and blow out a frustrated breath. I know Jeremy needs a work permit, and Mr. Beck won’t give him one, but what I don’t understand is why Mr. Beck hasn’t kicked him out of his office yet. Margot wheels around and leans against my desk. Her eyes are wide and excited. I plaster my best friendly smile on my face and wait for the dirt.
“I thought Sterling would have told you,” she says. We’ve been dancing around the topic of my alleged association with Sterling Grady for a while now. I just shake my head no and try not to fuel her curiosity any further. “Well, anyway. So Jeremy got a job working at Forsaken Custom Cycle. He came to me for a permit and I had to deny him because his grades are too low. He begged me to give him the permit, but I told him to talk to Mr. Beck.”