“Cheyenne Grady,” Ruby shouts. My back straightens, and I look up at Ian with wide eyes, intent on avoiding Ruby’s gaze.
Ian mouths, “Run,” and I take off without another thought. I can still hear Ruby shouting in the distance as I bob and weave around as many people as I can. My feet are killing me as I force them into action on these stupid heels, but I don’t slip, and I suppose that’s something. Dad and Holly nearly catch sight of me, but I duck behind a burly man before curving behind a table and out the front door. Once out of the clubhouse, I take a deep breath and thank God that I made it out of there alive. With much slower steps, I walk to Ian’s bike and plan to wait until he comes out. A second later, he bursts out of the front door. With a wicked smile on his face he says, “She’s pissed,” and climbs on his bike. I climb up after him, and he starts her up.
I catch sight of movement on the picnic table. A mess of shaggy blond hair hangs in his face as his hands grip the shoulders of a half-naked woman he has bent over. His jeans have been slid down just enough, and her skirt is tossed over her ass as he rocks himself into her. I already knows it’s him—Daniel—so when he lifts his head and grunts, I’m not surprised. No, what surprises me is the look of pure satisfaction he has on his face as he grabs ahold of the woman’s hair, and without breaking eye contact, he slams into her hard. His lips part, and his eyes roll back in his head just a moment before they’re back on me. Just as we pull out of the parking lot and peel out, I let my face rest on Ian’s back and close my eyes.
I am so done with bikers.
So done.
The ride home is short, and Ian helps me disengage the alarm. My Bug is still in the drive. Maybe Dad won’t know I was there after all. Ian’s taken notice of my sullen mood, and just before he closes the front door on me, he says, “You’re better than that shit. Remember that. You deserve good, so don’t settle for fucked up.”
He leans in and places a kiss to my cheek and then strides away. I close my eyes and shut the door, not even worried that I’m going to wake Grandma up. It takes everything in me to climb the stairs to my room. I fall into my bed, shove my face in my pillow, and sob uncontrollably for the next hour. The only reason I think I’m able to stop myself from crying and have the good sense to clean myself up and wash away the evidence of sneaking out is because of the words that won’t stop ringing in my head.
You deserve good, so don’t settle for fucked up.
Just as I’m drifting off to sleep, I manage to send Ian a quick text. THANK YOU.
CHAPTER 13
January
15 months to Mancuso’s downfall
My left arm curls around my notebook, and my right furiously scribbles a messy stick-figure drawing of Jeremy being beaten by a hammer. Drawing-Jeremy is tucked in the corner of the page, surrounded by a carefully constructed code I created in order to try to piece together the mystery of Mindy’s rape without fear that someone will find it. Drawing-Jeremy is almost finished as I detail the blood oozing from his head. In the other corner of the page, Drawing-Daniel has been beheaded and is missing his right hand.
I may or may not be in a bad mood.
Everything is hectic and upside down right now. I barely know which direction I’m turning in anymore. Between avoiding Jeremy like the plague—because holy crap, I’m a chicken—to digging up every tiny piece of information on Mindy’s attacker that I can, I’m worn out. If things had gone well on our date, I was going to try to pry a little into finding out what Jeremy knows about the whole thing. But things didn’t go so well. On top of the ill-timed text from Daniel, that disaster after-date incident cemented our first date into the history books as our last. Not that the public blow job didn’t make everything even worse.
Only, I hate the idea of that date being our last. Even despite the blow job. I’m so pathetic. I don’t want to let him go. I really don’t, and I can’t figure out why. I don’t want to like him, but there’s just something there that has me in knots over what happened. Holly told me once to be careful because every girl marries a guy like her dad, and by her estimation, Jeremy shares more than just a cut with Grouchy. Maybe she’s right, because I can see the protective side of Jeremy that I’ve come to expect with my dad. I see his playfulness, and even his bossiness isn’t a turnoff. I’d never admit it, but I secretly love it when a guy goes alpha on me. Unfortunately, Jeremy’s sidestepped alpha and rushed right into dirtbag.