Jagger (The Black Hornets MC Book 6) by Savannah Rylan

Author:Savannah Rylan [Rylan, Savannah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pink Empire Publishing
Published: 2019-03-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

Mari

I did as Jagger asked. I padded around softly, packing a few things away in a duffle bag I had stuffed down in the bottom of my closet. Here I was, sneaking around again like I did when I was a child. Except now, I was a full-grown woman in my own damn house. I snickered at myself. And here, I thought I was strong. Independent. Worthy and capable of protecting and providing for myself. And I didn’t even have the balls to stand up for my father. I mean, he wasn’t an ordinary father. I got that. But still, it made me feel weak, being trapped with him. Unable to stand up for myself around him. Unable to get him the fuck out of my house without wondering if he was going to gun me down.

I shivered at the thought.

I packed up a few outfits and shoved my charger cords into my bag. I had no plans on actually using my cell phone. In fact, the plan was to pick up a burner phone after I got out of this place. My father had taught me enough merely by his actions growing up. I knew how to fall off the grid if I needed to. I reached up to the top shelf of my closet and rummaged around for it. The coffee can I kept stuffed with money just in case something like this ever happened.

Just in case I needed to run.

I didn’t think I’d have to use it with my own father. I figured the cartel would come after me as leverage or something, eventually. Tap into me once my father was dead to take over whatever seat my father thought I should. I took five percent of all my paychecks in cash and shoved it into this can. I’d done it every paycheck since I was eighteen, starting with the payoff from the house I sold to pay for my degree. I shoved the can filled with cash into my bag, then zipped it up. I went into the bathroom and gathered my toiletries, then stuffed them into a plastic bag.

I sat on the edge of my bed with my light off, steadying my breathing. Listening out for my father. Waiting until I heard nothing but silence in my townhome.

Then, I opened the door and crept downstairs.

His light was off, thank fuck. That meant he’d gone to bed. Hopefully. I kept my steps light. Stayed on the balls of my feet and rolled them steadily. I’d picked up all of these tactics as a child. How to get past my father when sneaking out. How to get past his meetings in his office whenever he conducted them. How to sit there silently and listen to his voice, pretending he was talking with me.

Some of my fondest memories from my childhood were of me sitting on the steps and dreaming of my father doing all sorts of things with me. Taking me on picnics. Taking me to father-daughter dances.

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