“Curious,” West finishes for him when he can’t seem to find the word.
Do they know the truth? Are they going to tell him I’m still alive? Sweat trickles down my back and my pulse spikes.
West clears his throat. “Then someone at the magazine confirmed it was true.”
I glare at him. Who the hell told them that? Nobody except Julian even knew what my article was about.
“Come home with us and we’ll talk about this properly, princess.”
Princess? That word snaps my last shred of restraint. These arrogant, conceited assholes know nothing about me or who I really am, so at least there’s that. I’m still safe here in New York. But they chose to believe some other woman, a woman they no doubt screwed over if their actions with me are any indication, rather than give me a chance to explain.
“I am not your fucking princess, West. I am not any of your fucking anything anymore. You all left me standing in the rain looking like—like a fucking lunatic!” Losing my composure, I screech the final few words. The mere memory of that night cuts like glass. I take a deep breath before continuing in a calmer tone. “You showed me who you really are that night. And you know what? I don’t even care why you did it. I don’t give one iota of a fuck why you didn’t speak to me like grown-ups instead of blindly trusting whatever your ex told you about me—”
West cuts me off. “We didn’t blindly—”
I hold up my hand. “Do not interrupt me when I gave you the courtesy of listening to what you had to say.” A thick vein pulses in his temple, but he keeps his fat mouth shut. “I am done. There is nothing any of you can do to change what you did. Nothing you can say to alter the fact that you are three of the worst human beings I’ve had the displeasure of knowing. And I don’t give a monkey’s fucking buttcrack about how much money you have or how powerful you are. I hate you. I hate what you turned me into. I hate that I shed a single tear over any of you.” Gritting my teeth, I swipe the back of my hands over my cheeks and glare at them.
“Now leave me the hell alone and go ruin someone else’s life.” I press the button to speak to the driver. “Stop this car and let me the hell out. Now!”
“Lily?” Xander pleads.
His expression even more emotionless than usual, Zeke presses the button on his side of the car and gives the driver the go-ahead to stop and let me out.
“Fuck no. We aren’t ending things like this.” Xander reaches for me just as the car rolls to a stop, and I jerk away.
West puts a hand on Xander’s thigh. “Let her go, Fitch.” Then he gets out and opens the door for me. Tears stream down my face as I climb out, hauling my battered old bike out with me and wishing I could bring myself to hate them as much as they deserve.
Chapter
Forty-Seven
ZEKE
I bring the SUV to a stop outside the club where four of our bouncers are shuffling impatiently, wilting in the hot July sun. I roll my window down and signal them to jump in. They file into the back seats and exclaim their gratitude for the AC pumping through the vents. While Xander and I are more than capable of handling this ourselves, it doesn’t hurt to have a little extra muscle in situations like these. They’re more than happy to tag along, knowing they’ll be well compensated for their time.
A half hour later, we arrive at the first of four puppy farms that Lily highlighted in her article. The other three are being paid a similar visit right now, but this is the biggest and most lucrative, which is why we’re handling it ourselves.
The guy sitting in the small booth outside the steel gate adjusts his Celtics cap and scratches his thick red beard. “Can I help you?”
“We’ve come for some puppies.” Xander grins.
The guard hesitates.
“Let us the fuck in,” I say with a snarl.
He leans forward and eyes the men in the backseat, then looks back at me. “I can’t.”
Removing my seatbelt and grabbing his head in one fluid motion, I smash his face into the small console in the booth. “How about now?” Blood gushing from his nose, he fumbles with a series of buttons. A few seconds later, the gates open, and I tap the side of his face. “Good boy.”
It doesn’t take long to find the owner cowering in a corner. The guard must have called ahead. “I own these premises now, and this place is no longer in business,” I tell him. When he just gapes at me, I snarl. “Do you understand me?”
He nods furiously. I motion for the bouncers to surround him, wishing I could have them beat the living shit out of him. But we don’t want the cops sniffing around, so I let him go with nothing more than a slap to the head.