belong,” she countered.
He grabbed her arms and lifted her to her feet, and shook her. “Shut the fuck up. I mean it. You testin’ my patience. If you was anyfuckinbody else, you’d be flat on your fuckin’ ass. Knocked the fuck out. Not wakin’ up for a fuckin’ mouth.” To emphasize how little he held onto his control, he shook her again. “Now, I’m gonna tell you nice. Clean up this fuckin’ mess.”
“No. If you want to hit me, do it,” she spat. “But I’m not my mother. I fought her husband when she wouldn’t. If he ever finds me, I’m going to fight until I can’t anymore. Either he’ll win or I’ll win. So do your best.”
“Sit down,” he ordered, setting her on her feet, his voice echoing in the deathly silence.
“No.”
Christopher kicked over the table they’d spent the evening at. “Goddammit, you fuckin’ little piece of baggage. Sit the fuck down. NOW !”
Meggie sniffed, but slid into the chair without another word.
Christopher paced, thrusting his fingers through his hair. Everyone tracked his movements, not speaking, remaining still. He paused a moment and pointed a finger at her. “That’s why you lookin’ for Boss, yeah? Your step-fuckhead tryin’ to take your pussy?”
Her lips thinned and she pinned him with an accusing gaze. “You’re crude.”
“Don’t give a good fuck whatcha think ‘bout me, Megan. So you might as well fuckin’ answer me.”
Her stomach dropped. As long as she fought back and didn’t think about it, as long as she reminded herself her father’s DNA infused her blood, as long as she insisted Thomas’s violence wouldn’t rule her life, she coped. She laughed. She flirted and desired the angry man before her.
Most of all, she survived .
Now, Christopher insisted she admit to one of Thomas’s basic motivations—his sick determination to have sex with her.
Nausea churned in her and she shook. She had to hold herself together in front of these people. In front of Rack, Ellen, and Christopher’s girlfriend.
He crouched down in front of her and took her chin between his thumb and forefinger in a gentle but firm grip. “Look at me.”
Exhausted, she raised her gaze to his and gave him the barest of nods.
“What’s his name?”
“Thomas Nicholls,” she croaked. The same focus and kindness he’d exhibited before Ellen and Kiera walked in returned. That was the hardest to swallow. The way he made her feel, the desire, safety, need and want. The way he knew he made her feel and gave so little thought to toying with her and then kissing two other women senseless.
He rose to his feet and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the inside of his vest pocket. “I don’t have what you call a girlfriend,” he began after lighting it and taking a drag. “Second, if you ever act like such a psycho bitch, I’m gonna strip you to nothin’, lay you over my lap, and beat your bare ass.”
She glowered at him. He took another drag of his cigarette, unaffected.
“Next, Ellen ain’t had no business openin’ her fuckin’ trap about Boss.” He threw an evil look at the woman, who flushed and looked away.
“My father—“ She paused and the thought hovering in the back of her head broke free. She sucked in a breath and clutched her belly. “Young girls,” she whispered and her voice shook. “My father.” She swiped away the tears she couldn’t stop and pressed down on her trembling lips, determined to control herself. She started over. “My father isn’t like Thomas, is he? I-I mean the whole world looks at Big Joe and sees a biker. They don’t even try to see the real him.” She shuddered. “They look at Thomas and see a math teacher. A wholesome, all-American citizen. But…but he isn’t. He’s worse than my father could ever be. With Big Joe...” She swallowed, blinking rapidly. Thomas was vile, evil, the very bottom of humanity, preying on the weakness of women and children, a sociopath, who didn’t penetrate her
He grabbed her arms and lifted her to her feet, and shook her. “Shut the fuck up. I mean it. You testin’ my patience. If you was anyfuckinbody else, you’d be flat on your fuckin’ ass. Knocked the fuck out. Not wakin’ up for a fuckin’ mouth.” To emphasize how little he held onto his control, he shook her again. “Now, I’m gonna tell you nice. Clean up this fuckin’ mess.”
“No. If you want to hit me, do it,” she spat. “But I’m not my mother. I fought her husband when she wouldn’t. If he ever finds me, I’m going to fight until I can’t anymore. Either he’ll win or I’ll win. So do your best.”
“Sit down,” he ordered, setting her on her feet, his voice echoing in the deathly silence.
“No.”
Christopher kicked over the table they’d spent the evening at. “Goddammit, you fuckin’ little piece of baggage. Sit the fuck down. NOW !”
Meggie sniffed, but slid into the chair without another word.
Christopher paced, thrusting his fingers through his hair. Everyone tracked his movements, not speaking, remaining still. He paused a moment and pointed a finger at her. “That’s why you lookin’ for Boss, yeah? Your step-fuckhead tryin’ to take your pussy?”
Her lips thinned and she pinned him with an accusing gaze. “You’re crude.”
“Don’t give a good fuck whatcha think ‘bout me, Megan. So you might as well fuckin’ answer me.”
Her stomach dropped. As long as she fought back and didn’t think about it, as long as she reminded herself her father’s DNA infused her blood, as long as she insisted Thomas’s violence wouldn’t rule her life, she coped. She laughed. She flirted and desired the angry man before her.
Most of all, she survived .
Now, Christopher insisted she admit to one of Thomas’s basic motivations—his sick determination to have sex with her.
Nausea churned in her and she shook. She had to hold herself together in front of these people. In front of Rack, Ellen, and Christopher’s girlfriend.
He crouched down in front of her and took her chin between his thumb and forefinger in a gentle but firm grip. “Look at me.”
Exhausted, she raised her gaze to his and gave him the barest of nods.
“What’s his name?”
“Thomas Nicholls,” she croaked. The same focus and kindness he’d exhibited before Ellen and Kiera walked in returned. That was the hardest to swallow. The way he made her feel, the desire, safety, need and want. The way he knew he made her feel and gave so little thought to toying with her and then kissing two other women senseless.
He rose to his feet and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the inside of his vest pocket. “I don’t have what you call a girlfriend,” he began after lighting it and taking a drag. “Second, if you ever act like such a psycho bitch, I’m gonna strip you to nothin’, lay you over my lap, and beat your bare ass.”
She glowered at him. He took another drag of his cigarette, unaffected.
“Next, Ellen ain’t had no business openin’ her fuckin’ trap about Boss.” He threw an evil look at the woman, who flushed and looked away.
“My father—“ She paused and the thought hovering in the back of her head broke free. She sucked in a breath and clutched her belly. “Young girls,” she whispered and her voice shook. “My father.” She swiped away the tears she couldn’t stop and pressed down on her trembling lips, determined to control herself. She started over. “My father isn’t like Thomas, is he? I-I mean the whole world looks at Big Joe and sees a biker. They don’t even try to see the real him.” She shuddered. “They look at Thomas and see a math teacher. A wholesome, all-American citizen. But…but he isn’t. He’s worse than my father could ever be. With Big Joe...” She swallowed, blinking rapidly. Thomas was vile, evil, the very bottom of humanity, preying on the weakness of women and children, a sociopath, who didn’t penetrate her
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