AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“People will come in here!” Breanna says.
No, they won’t. Chevy’s guarding the door. “Twenty seconds, Hewitt.”
“She didn’t tell you?” he spits.
“Ten.” I advance a foot.
He straightens for my attack yet yells at Breanna, “If he hits me, it’ll go up and it’ll never stop! That’s not the only picture. They’ll all go up.”
All I see is red. Pictures. Breanna. The image of Violet crying uncontrollably at my house as she sobbed, That picture has ruined my life.
Breanna hijacks my arm as I launch myself at the bastard. “He’s blackmailing me to write his papers! And he’s doing it with a picture of me and you together.”
Her desperation claws at me. “Nothing happened.”
“But it looks like something happened.” Her fingers dig into my skin.
“Yeah, it does.” The pride in Hewitt’s voice causes me to imagine killing him seven different ways until Sunday. He holds out his cell, and if it weren’t for Breanna’s grasp on my arm, reminding me that she’s here, I’d tear off his balls and shove them down his throat.
Friday night seemed like a dream to me. Her so close, the feel of her soft skin. Her laughter, her trust, the two of us sharing intimate details of our lives, and in front of me is a picture that makes dirty for her a night I enjoyed. This damn snapshot could destroy her reputation.
“Are you suicidal, Hewitt?” I ask in a low tone. “Because it feels like you’re begging someone to slit your throat.”
He laughs like what I said is a joke. “You really are banging her, aren’t you? I had no idea what we were going for was correct.”
The crazy residing in me fractures and Breanna shouts my name as I bolt forward, curl my fingers into Hewitt’s shirt and slam him into the wall. I’m eye to eye with the asshole and overpronounce my words in case he’s a stupid son of a bitch. “You will not disrespect her.”
His hands are on my wrists and he fails at freedom. Hewitt’s face stains red and he breathes hard as I probably knocked the wind out of him. “I’m holding the cards, not you.”
“Tell me who’s mixed up in this.” I give him another shove. “Tell me or I will start throwing my fist into your face until you cry.”
“Razor!” Breanna’s next to us. “I’ll write the papers. Please let him go!”
No fucking way. He’s torturing her and he’s using me to do it.
Hewitt tries to kick me, but I’m stronger. “Leave, Breanna. Let me handle this.”
He angles forward to gain my attention. “I will destroy her by the end of the day.”
“Razor, please!” Breanna cries. “That picture can’t go live. I’m begging you, let him go!”
The despair in her voice unbalances me, and for some screwed-up reason, I’m listening. She’s asking the impossible. I don’t back down from a fight. Everyone knows this and the fact I’m hesitating because she asked confuses the hell out of me.
“Please, Razor,” she whispers, and it’s then that I notice her touch on my arm. It’s a gentle caress. One that causes the buzzing in my head to vanish. “Let him go.”
I do, and Hewitt places space between us as he rights his shirt. “You’re crazy, Turner.”
Me? “I’m not the sick bastard blackmailing innocent girls. But if you want crazy, keep this up. I’ll bring the wrath of the Terror down on you.”
“Your club’s not going to do a thing. They didn’t do anything when we posted Violet’s picture and, according to you guys, she’s your family. But go ahead. Tell your club. Anything happens to me, there are others who will destroy Breanna for me.”
I’m inhaling through my nose and pushing away the urge to kill him. Clearer heads prevail. How many times did Olivia tell me that? Too many. I crave to tear him apart limb by limb, but I won’t, not now. He’s playing smart, and so will I. “I hear you.”
Hewitt scrubs his hands over his face like he’s free from a death row sentence, but he’s sadly mistaken. There are only a few hours left before he’s chained to the table. “Look, I had no idea she meant something to you, so no disrespect intended. I saw what happened at the club and I know you didn’t kiss. I thought you guys accidentally ran into each other and she blew you off. I had no idea she’d run to you and that you’d give a shit if we did post the picture.”
He’s waiting for me to offer my hand and say that he read me correctly—that I don’t care if he took pictures of me with any girl, but instead I stay silent. Either Hewitt’s mentally unstable or he lies way better to himself than I do.
When he gets no reaction, he switches to Breanna. “It doesn’t have to be like this. We can forget about the picture. Name what you want, I’ll give it to you, and you can write my papers.”
