Page 130 of Romeo

Even if she stuck to her guns about him staying out of her life.

He got it.

She was pissed. She was hurt. She was worried about her future. And, as expected, how she’d pay her bills until she found another job.

“Stupid fuck,” he muttered under his breath as he got off his sled.

He stared at his house. He didn’t need to go inside to know it was empty. Just like his goddamn soul.

He should’ve told her no. Just like Magnum insisted. He should’ve sent her on her way. Told her to run fast and far from him.

He had never been good at doing the right thing.

The evidence of that was obvious.

Maddie was right. He was a selfish fuck. He only thought about himself.

Her situation was the first time he hadn’t. And, of course, he fucked that up.

Maddie said what he did was a good reminder why she didn’t want to deal with bikers. Her reaction was a good reminder why he didn’t like strings.

He choked on them.

Maybe he only needed to snip those fucking strings and simply let her go.

That would be the best thing. For her. For him.

Even for the alliance.

He hated that Magnum was right.

As he pulled his keys from the front pocket of his jeans, he paused when he heard a rustle nearby.

It could be an animal. A bird or a squirrel.

Fuck.Did they come out at night? He was no wildlife expert.What if it was a skunk?

Squinting, he searched the shadows while listening carefully.

Why the fuck was he still standing there? It was saferinside where he had plenty of beer, a bong, and a baseball bat.

Only six steps away from the door, he heard something again. This time it sounded like the crunch of gravel underneath feet.

That was either one big fucking skunk or another type of animal.

One with two feet instead of four.

He reached for his cell phone to turn on the flashlight app but before he had a good grip on it, something came at him hard and fast.

Romeo didn’t even get a chance to react before he found himself not only on his knees, but unable to breathe.

Chapter Thirty-Two

That wasno goddamn skunk unless the striped bastard knew how to use a fucking tire iron.

He could safely say it wasn’t a fucking squirrel, either.

But itwasa pack of animals. He had no idea how many because he was now on the ground unable to get up, unable to see shit since warm liquid was blinding him.

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