Page 67 of These Deadly Vows

I should be worried about my safety. Only I’m not afraid of him. His cock has been in me one too many times for me to fear him. He snatches my keys from my hand. One of the jagged edges cuts my palm in the process.

“Ouch,” I hiss and blow on the ripped skin as blood drips from the scratch. “What are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer. He simply fingers through the ring until he finds what he’s looking for. The key to his penthouse and the one for the bar. I wait for him to take the one that unlocks the door to my apartment, but thankfully he doesn’t. Not yet. “You’re on probation. I know what you did and don’t bother trying to deny it. I don’t want to hear any excuses.”

“I’m sorry.”

Ghost blinks as the muscle in his jaw twitches in what I assume is annoyance. “You’re sorry.”

“That’s what an apology usually means.”

“You’ve never been sorry a day in your pathetic life. One more fuck up, Boo, and you’re done. Stay clear of my wife.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time. She could join us.” I tap my fingers on his chest, and he grabs my wrist, twisting my hand back so hard and far I’m afraid he’s going to snap the bone.

“The only reason you’re still here is because, at one time, your father meant something to this club.”

“Don’t throw him in my face. That’s a low blow.”

“If he could see the way you’ve been living, he’d die all over again of fucking shame.” He releases my hand and shoves my keyring into my cut palm.

“Fuck you, Ghost. Just fuck you.” Tears well up, threatening to spill. My father gave everything to this club, and they branded him a traitor. A rat. This club was his life, and it grew to be mine. I thought I’d always have a place here. That being here, serving the men he dedicated his life to, would keep me closer to him. I thought Ghost understood that. That he got me.

Maybe I was wrong.

About him.

About the club.

About everything.

If my father could see me now, I’m not sure what he’d think about the way I’ve been living my life. Except I don’t think being a club whore is the future he envisioned. Blinking away my tears, I realize Ghost has already walked away. He doesn’t give a fuck about me.

Disgrace and guilt coat me from the inside out, seeping through my pores as I do my walk of shame up the stairs to the floor of my apartment. The jingling of my key’s echoes, alerting Stray to my presence. Her door jerks open as I twist the knob of mine.

“Have you been with him this whole time?”

“Who?” I play dumb, though we both know by him she means Axe.

“Tell me one thing, Boo. Did you sleep with him?” I don’t respond, but no response is all the answer she needs. “I thought so.”

“Listen, piece of advice. Don’t get emotionally invested in any of this place or the people in it.” I enter my apartment and shut the door in her face. I don’t owe her anything.

I don’t owe anyone here a damn thing.

Chapter Twenty-one

“I thought you fell in. Thought I was going to have to call for Axe to fish you out of the bowl.”

Carla snorts. “How many bathing suits did you buy?” She assesses my haul from the other day dumped in the center of the bed as she comes out of my bathroom.

“I need options. I’ve never been to a biker pool party before.”

“Neither have I, but I’m sure the logistics are the same as any other, except the men are tattooed and mean.”

“As opposed to what just mean?” I stick my tongue out at her. “Help me pick something. When I bought these, my hair was still blonde. I don’t know what colors complement my hair now.”

“Let me see the red one. Hold it up next to your skin. Red goes great with dark hair, but only if you have a decent tan so that it doesn’t wash you out. Unless you’re going for the Morticia Addams aesthetic.”

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