Page 14 of Killer's Obsession
Rage’s phone rings, cutting through the tension in the room. Phones aren’t usually allowed in church, but with his old lady close to her due date, concessions have been made.
Rage glances at the screen, frowning before answering.
“Yeah?” His expression shifts from annoyance to shock, and his eyes round to the size of dinner plates. He shoves up from hischair, sending it flying back. “In labor? Now? Shit! I’m on my way.”
He hangs up the phone and shoves it in his pocket, already moving toward the door.
“Mac’s in labor!”
Chapter Four
Memphis
Perched on the edge of Pinky’s bed, I was wide-eyed as she digs through her closet like a maniac. Clothes are flying over her shoulder in her frenzied search for “just the right thing”.
“It’s in here somewhere.”
I jerk to the side, barely dodging another pair of cutoff shorts that sail past me.
“What are you looking for?”
“You’ll see.”
I giggle and gaze around her room. It’s tiny compared to Killer’s—a small square with just enough space for her single bed, dresser, and vanity table that’s cluttered with makeup and hair products. Strings of fairy lights crisscross the ceiling, casting a soft glow over the pale pink walls.
It’s girly and cute and very... Pinky.
“I have the perfect outfit that will look so hot on you,” she calls over her shoulder, her voice muffled as she reaches deeper into the closet. “You’re tiny, but I’m pretty small myself.”
I glance around, taking in the personal touches that make this space uniquely hers—polaroid photos tacked to a cork board, a collection of scented candles on the windowsill, a fluffy pink rug that looks like something from a teenage girl’s bedroom. The whole space is adorable.
“Do you like living here?” I ask before I can stop myself. “At the clubhouse, I mean.”
Pinky pauses her rummaging to look back at me, head tilted. “It’s not bad. Better than a lot of places I’ve been.”
I nod, fingers tracing the pattern on her flowery comforter. “And being a... Cherry?” The word feels strange in my mouth; this club terminology I’m still learning. “You’re okay with that part too?”
She returns to her search, shoulders lifting in a shrug. “It’s not like I had a choice.”
My body moves before my brain can catch up, and I shoot up from the bed so fast I nearly lose my balance. “What?”
Pinky spins around, eyes wide, hands flying up. “Whoa, whoa!” She takes a step toward me. “That’s not what I meant.”
Her gaze darts to the door, checking to make sure it’s closed. “Shit,” she mutters.
My brows snap together. “I don’t understand.”
She looks genuinely scared now, teeth worrying at her bottom lip. “It’s not what you think.”
“You just said you didn’t have a choice,” I press, my confusion building. Are the Saints forcing these women to sleep with them? Has Killer been untruthful with me about what kind of club this is?
“Shit, shit, shit!” Pinky wrings her hands, her pink hair falling across her face as she shakes her head.
I take a step toward her. “You can trust me,” I say softly, meaning it. Despite only knowing her for a few short weeks, Pinky is the closest thing to a friend I’ve had in a very long time.
She studies my face for a long moment, then sighs. “If I tell you, you can’t say anything.”
Without hesitating, I hold out my pinky finger. “Pinky swear.”
