And for some stupid reason, I thought he’d be there for me, even though we don’t like one another. Even though we fight more than we talk, I stupidly thought he’d come to get me out of this hell hole. After what happened at Christmas… oh, who am I kidding? I can’t even recall what happened because it made no sense.
Because someone’s first real kiss shouldn’t be that good, right? Toe-curling, body aching, leaving my skin in a fever, good. A first kiss is supposed to be messy and gross, with too much tongue and too wet, wondering why people kiss to begin with, but no, that was not the case with Knives.
When he smashed his lips against mine, I knew what he was doing. He wanted to shut me up, but the firm grip on my hair loosened, and he sighed into my mouth as we both relaxed.
I bang my head against the bars, and the thud echoes in the small space. Am I hitting myself with the metal rods to help me forget the kiss or to remind me how stupid I am for speeding and then mouthing off to the cop to land me in here? Or to remind me how dumb I am for having a flicker of hope that maybe Knives and I like one another, and falling for that Christmas kiss?
All of it.
I’m just full of bad ideas lately.
“You aren’t going anywhere, Miss St. James. Not until your bail is posted. This time you have a court date,” Officer Daniels says as he bites into a donut and flips the page of the newspaper.
“Court? Come on! I was barely speeding.”
“You’re right. At first, your speed wasn’t too far above the legal limit, but your choice to engage officers in a high-speed chase for nearly five miles was. Maybe think about that next time.”
Oh, right. So I may have put pedal to the metal on the highway, attracted a bunch of cop cars, swerved off the road to try to escape, and cut across the lanes headlong into traffic to throw them off before finally getting pulled over.
Like I said, I’m not perfect.
He takes another bite of the donut, and my stomach grumbles, reminding me I haven’t eaten since last night. I’m not going to ask for food. I just want another phone call. I let out a long sigh, push off the bars, and take three steps back.
My knees hit the metal cot, and I sit down, running my fingers through the inky strands of my hair. I hate sitting here. It gives me time to think about the things I’m doing and why I’m going them, and the answer is, I don’t know.
For the longest time, I was the perfect daughter. Straight A’s and fake smiles, along with fake happiness and a fake family.
The only real experiences I’ve ever had are the ones the Ruthless Kings have given me, good and bad. I know how I got to the Atlantic City chapter. I know it was my own doing. It’s my own fault, but I don’t care to go back to that old life.
It was stale, lacking in love and life, and any type of excitement. Is that a reason not to go home? Probably not, but I know my family, and I doubt they are worried. They never were before, and Reaper says Badge checked for missing persons and found nothing. He found more, but I stopped him before he could tell me.
I don’t want to know.
All that matters is what led me here, to now, to the present.
The past doesn’t matter, and what happened to me is irrelevant because I didn’t experience abuse from the bikers like the other girls. I have no reason to be afraid.
But you are.
I just don’t know what I’m afraid of.
I like it here with the Kings, even if they barely give me the time of day because I tried to be a cut slut. I’m going to go ahead and mark that off my to-do list, because there aren’t any sluts there now since two of them died.
I prefer to stay alive. Thank you very much.
Then why am I still with the motorcycle club? I should leave, get the hell away as far and as fast as I can, yet I’m rooted here.
And I have no idea why.
“Well, well, well.”
I grit my teeth when I hear his mocking tone. I knew I should have called someone else.
“Looks like the little hellraiser is off doing what she does best, isn’t she?”
I sigh when I see Knives standing in front of my cell, waving his phone in the air. “I got your message. Why am I not surprised to find you here?” he asks. He tucks his phone in his pocket and whips out a ninja star, scratching a spot under his chin. The cops see it and they don’t even blink.
“He has a weapon!” I cry out, pointing at the man who drives me freaking bonkers. “Hello,” I singsong. “He has a ninja star. He might kill me.” I wave my arms in the air like I’m a person trapped on an island, waving my hands in the air, hoping the only helicopter I’ve seen in weeks saves me.
Freaking crickets. What good is law enforcement if they can’t save me from Knives?
“It helps when you have the entire department in your pocket, Hellraiser.”
“Stop calling me that,” I seethe and then bolt to the bars, gripping them tight until my knuckles turn white. “I swear, you better be glad I’m in here, or I’d—”
“—You’d what?” He inches forward, and his nose touches mine between the bars. “Tell me.”
The muscles in my cheek jump as I squeeze my jaws together. “I’d freaking choke you.”
He chuckles; the sound is dark and delicious and travels down my spine like a shiver. When the tension has nowhere else to go, it seeps into the surface of my skin, creating goosebumps. “Oh, don’t make promises you can’t keep. You know how much I love a good time,” he says, a teasing glint in his eyes.
I cross my arms to hide my hard nipples that his response created. I don’t have control over my body. It’s not like I want to be attracted to him. “Are you going to get me out of here or not?”
“Nah. I just wanted to come by and see you in here. Maybe being stuck in jail might give you a little perspective.”
“Perspective! You can’t be serious. Like you’ve never been in jail before?”
“Actually, I haven’t. See, I’m a good boy, no matter what the lump of coal you got me says.”
I’m fuming at this point. He is such a dick. I should have called Reaper or Sarah, someone that actually gives a damn and doesn’t want to see me in here. “Just because I made a mistake—”
He slams his fist against the bars, but I don’t flinch, even if my heart is drumming against my chest. “It isn’t just this mistake, Mary. It’s all of them. It’s your reckless behavior. TJ here says it’s the second time this week you’ve been recklessly driving. Fourth or fifth time this winter.” He slices the ninja star across the bars, and sparks fly when metal grinds against metal. “You’re going down a dangerous fucking road, and you expect me or other members to pick you up along the way? To adhere to your carelessness?”
“Adhere? That’s a fancy word for a guy like you,” I nearly spit, rage shaking my body the longer I stare into his sky-blue eyes. They are cold and calculating.
I’ve heard people say the eyes are the window to the soul, but that doesn’t apply to Knives. When I look into his eyes, I see nothing. His soul turned to stone eons ago.
“Hey, TJ. What is Miss St. James’ bail?” Knives asks, never taking his gaze off me.
“A few thousand,” the cop answers.