Page 109 of Hendrix

“I’m sorry,” I breathed, smiling wryly through my pain. “I know what it feels like to be hurt by Hendrix.”

“Yet here you are,” she spat. “That asshole treated you like dirt, but you still came running back for more. You’re a fucking idiot. At least I’m getting revenge and not rolling over, begging for scraps.”

“You may be right,” I muttered. “But Hendrix showed me that he’s changed. He puts me first, and even though I married somebody else and I’m pregnant, he never stopped loving me.” I paused to get my breath before continuing. “Hendrix fucked up, but fuck-ups can be forgiven as long as a lesson’s learned. I’m willing to try because I’ve seen glimpses of the man he can be, and I think he’s worth the risk.”

“You’re a fool,” she hissed.

“I’m sorry for what he did to you,” I murmured.

“You’re an idiot. A stupid bitch,” she snapped.

“I’m sorry for you.”

Daisy let out a pained cry, then made a fist, pulled her arm back, and swung.

A burst of pain ricocheted through my temple, and athwackingsound rang out as she punched me again.

I moaned as burning pain razed through my eardrum. Bringing my hands up, I cried out while covering my head with my hands, trying to protect myself as best I could from the flurry of punches.

Thwack.

Thwack.

A metallic taste of blood filled my mouth, and an unbearable pain blazed through my torso. A feeling of dread washed through me as I realized she’d kicked my back.

My baby.

Another wave of sickness hit me, and I fell onto my side and began to vomit again where I lay, unable to even lift my head.

That was when it hit me.

This was it.

Nobody was going to find me.

There’d be no knight on a silver steed riding in to rescue me.

Me and my boy were likely going to die.

A part of me just hoped she’d make it quick.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

HENDRIX

“Justin Price,” Colt began as his fingers flew over the keyboard of the laptop, and more images of Tweety flicked across the screens. “Twenty-eight years old. His older brother, Christopher, died of a heroin overdose when he was seventeen. They went into the system when they were six and eight and stayed in it until Christopher died and Justin aged out and joined the military.”

“Criminal record?” I asked, staring at the images with my lip curled slightly.

“A shoplifting charge that never got to court due to lack of evidence and a drunk and disorderly that landed him a spell in the tank for a night. Nothing major.”

“How did he meet Daisy?” I demanded.

“Ahh,” Colt said wryly. “Daisy Wells, aka Danica Hudson, was placed in a children’s home when she was three. Her mother was a prostitute who was addicted to drugs. Used to leave her baby alone while she went out turning tricks. She was busted and sent to jail when she beat up a john and robbed him blind, which resulted in Danica being taken into care. She was placed in various foster homes, one of which was where she met Justin at fifteen.”

“How’s Tweety connected to Ace?” Diablo asked.

“I don’t think he is,” Colt admitted. “There’s no relationship. They never crossed paths in the military or the club. They never even served in close proximity. It’s Daisy who’s the connection.”

---