Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition Elizabeth Knox (cheapest way to read ebooks .txt) 📖

on the road. She didn’t speak until I pulled into my driveway and shut off my truck.

“I messed up,” she murmured with a tremble in her voice. I could hear her swallow in the silence of the cab.

Unable to hold it in any longer, I turned to face her. “You think?” I shouted in incredulous disbelief.

Tears trailed down her cheeks, and some of the fire dimmed within me. I rested my elbows on the steering wheel and scrubbed my face with my hands. Taking measured breaths, I worked to calm myself as best I could before I said or did something I would regret.

“Let’s go inside. You can shower, and I’ll get you something clean to put on.” It took everything in me not to look at how her dress was all stretched out and one of her tits was half exposed. Thank fuck she had a bra on, or I might not have been able to hold it in anymore.

When I got down from the truck, I slammed my door. She still sat in the passenger seat, so I opened her door. “Did you lose your hearing? Let’s go inside.”

No matter how mad I was, I was glad I was standing there, because she literally fell out of the truck. “Jesus,” I muttered. The thought began to settle in my head that Chet had hurt her, which set my anger in motion for a completely different reason.

A sob escaped her, and I huffed out a labored exhale before I wrapped her in my arms. When she settled into shuddering sniffles, I scooped her up and carried her to the house. She had her purse and hands clutched tight to her chest, but her face burrowed into my neck.

“I’ve got you,” I sighed, not wanting to let her go again.

I carried her all the way to the master bath before I gently set her on her feet. The fury within was at a low simmer by then—not gone, but not raging. Firmly but gently, I took her purse and her phone and set them on the counter.

Head bowed, she stood there with her hair a tangled curtain over her face.

Like I was undressing a child, I slipped the dress and undergarments off her, feeling my teeth grinding at the scruff burns on her pale flesh. When I saw teeth marks on the top of her breast, I almost punched a hole in the wall.

“Hailey?”

She glanced at me briefly but didn’t reply.

“Hailey. Did he,” I swallowed with difficulty before I tried again, “Did he hurt you? Assault you?”

If he had I would kill him with my bare hands. Tonight.

She shook her head, wide-eyed and shaken. A small sliver of relief hit me.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded before she whispered, “He thought I wanted to, but I didn’t, I mean, I….” she trailed off.

Whipping the handle to hot, I started the shower. “Get in,” I ordered her again. It took me propelling her in before she moved.

She jumped when the hot water hit her, and I adjusted the temperature. When she made no attempt to wash herself, I huffed in frustration and stripped down to my boxers before climbing in after her.

“Tip your head back.”

She did as I said, and I wet her hair, then lathered a generous amount of shampoo in it. “Rinse.” If I gave her exact commands, she obeyed. Thankfully I had conditioner that I used in my beard or I’d probably never get the tangles out of her hair.

Once she was clean, I shut off the water, dried her off, and carried her to my bed. Unable to stop myself, I pressed a kiss to her temple. Then I went in search of the hairbrush I remembered seeing in the spare bathroom. My mother had left it after she’d spent the night at my house last Christmas.

I stripped out of the wet underwear, gave myself a cursory dry, then pulled on some sleeping pants. After I was done, I returned to the bed where she still sat staring at the wall. I went through my drawers and found an old T-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. My sleeping pants would be way too long for her, despite her height.

“Here,” I said as I held the clothes out. When she stared at them, I sighed and helped her dress.

Working through my words to prevent my thoughts from coming out the wrong way, I brushed her hair. Finally, when I had it smoothed, I set the brush on the nightstand. Needing space, I scooted back to lean against the headboard and rested my arms on my raised knees.

Though I hated to ask, I needed to know. It would decide whether I killed him immediately or dragged it out over time.

“What exactly did he do to you?”

She startled at my voice, but I remained calm and patient. Wide, scared eyes met mine before she shook her head.

“No what?”

She swallowed with difficulty. Then she croaked out, “He didn’t do anything. I mean, not really. It’s what I did.”

“What?” My brow furrowed in confusion.

Blinking her eyes rapidly, she swallowed again. “Can I trust you?”

“What the fuck kind of question is that?” It probably came out harsher than I intended, because she flinched. Trying to regain my calm, I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. “Yes, you can absolutely trust me. I would lay down my life for you.”

The words shocked her as much as they shocked me. We sat there unblinking for a moment before she whispered, “I drugged him.”

“Come again?”

“I gave him Rohypnol,” she clarified, and my eyes bugged.

“What the actual fuck? Where the fuck did you get that? It’s illegal as fuck! And why the hell would you go out on a date with that fucker and then drug him?” My voice got louder with each word.

Her bottom lip quivered, and I immediately felt like an ass.

“Why would you care?” she mumbled so softly, I barely heard her.

“Because you’re MINE, goddamn it!” I roared. At that, the tears fell rapidly.

Shit.

I pulled