Breaking It All (The Hellfire Riders Book 3) by Wilde Kati

Author:Wilde, Kati [Wilde, Kati]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Kati Wilde
Published: 2016-03-28T16:00:00+00:00

18

Anna

After our late start, we don’t arrive in Santa Rosa until well after dark. But instead of heading to his family’s spread—a farm somewhere in the hills outside of the city—he pulls into the parking lot of a mid-range chain hotel.

As soon as Gunner finds out that the two rooms Widowmaker reserved for us don’t have a connecting door, he changes the reservation to a third floor deluxe suite—which turns out to be a regular double queen with a fireplace and a spa tub, separated from a living area by a half wall.

Gunner slings his bags on the bed nearest the door. Ten minutes later, after checking out all the locks and the security of the balcony’s sliding glass doors, he heads down to the hotel’s weight room.

Unpacking my bag takes up ten more minutes and then I’m out of things to do. Back in Pine Valley, I’m always busy. Either bartending at the Den or working on my house. Even while watching TV, I usually have another project with me—like sketching on my drawing pad or editing my pictures on my desktop computer.

God. I need a laptop. I’m afraid to poke at my phone too much. With my luck, I’d be playing Candy Crush when Stone’s call came in and accidentally hang up on him by pressing the wrong part of the screen at the wrong time.

Sprawled on my bed, I aimlessly flip through channels, debating whether to head down to the swimming pool. But I’m tired, and sore enough that I probably wouldn’t enjoy it.

Not to mention, I didn’t bring a swimming suit. Plus, my phone and the pool? Maybe not a good combination.

Anyway, I know what I’m really trying to do: distract myself so I don’t think about Gunner.

Big surprise, I think about him anyway. Story of my freaking life.

With a sigh, I haul my ass off the bed and examine the spa tub. It looks clean. So I’ll trust that the hotel maids bleach the hell out of it every morning and try to soak away some of this soreness.

God knows I’ve got time. My brother and Gunner often work out together, so I know he’s going to be down there at least an hour. Maybe more.

I turn on the tap as hot as I can stand before stripping, then pile my hair on top of my head. My cheek still looks as if an asshole rapist slapped the hell out of me—because, hey, an asshole rapist did—but the swelling on my lips has gone down. Not so bad. The bruise on the side of my thigh has darkened to an ugly purple splotch the size of my fist and hurts like crazy if I touch it.

So of course I bump it against the rim of the tub while climbing in. Teeth gritted, I lean back and close my eyes—and try to mentally sort through the chaotic jumble that has become my life. Which is,

A) My brother has essentially been taken prisoner and will be forced to fight in a cage match to the death.

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