Page 9 of Strength in Submission
“This isn’t your place, you can’t just walk right in here.”
Did she not just hear a damn word I said?
Grabbing the last wig, I slide it in its sheer bag and pull the hanger off the rod. “I don’t know who the hell you think you’re talking to, Angelica, but did you see him stop me? Uh, no. Because even though he’s an asshole he knows I have a right towhat’s mine, so do me a favor and get out of my face while I grab my stuff.”
Thinking nothing of it, I zip the luggage up and then go to the next biggest one. I don’t even bother folding my clothes as I yank them off their hangers, already figuring this woman is going to be batshit insane. I’m maybe halfway down the rack when a tugging sensation starts near the outer layer of my hair.
This chick isreallypulling my wig right now? Oh, hell no.
Instantly, I whip around and look back at her. “You’re going to wish you never laid a hand on me,” I sneer, pulling my arm back, I start to move it but she kicks up her leg and manages to get an iron grip on me.
Angelica drags me out by the back of my hair and finally lets go of me when I’m in the bedroom. I take a moment to catch my breath and heat storms through me. I feel it everywhere, but most of all on my face. I lunge toward her and draw my hand back, but the second I’m about to come into contact with her clothes-stealing face, an impact so strong busts right into my cheek and I topple over, hitting the bed.
With the wind knocked out of me, I try to figure out what the hell just happened. I would’ve seen her hand coming at me, but the way she hit me… how the hell did she do it? I need to get out of here as soon as possible.
I run back to the closet, zip up my second piece of luggage and grab the two suitcases I filled and rush out of there as quickly as I can.
Only, when I get to the door Derek grabs me with his nostrils flaring and pins me up against the wall. “Do anything like that to her ever again and I’ll have no problem making your other cheek match.”
His words come out callous, stone-cold, and most of all promising. He’s already decided in his mind he has no problem doing this… and my body goes rigid.
Angelica isn’t the one who hit me.
It was Derek…
He glares at me with all of his might, "I know where you're staying, Violet. Don't fuckin' test me. You never know when I'll sneak up in there and teach you another lesson."
My blood runs cold as I rip my arm out of his grasp and pull my luggage with me, running to my car like the apartment’s on fire. I throw them in the back seat and get in the driver’s side as soon as I can.
As I turn on the ignition, I know I can’t go back to the apartment right now… which means there’s only one place Icango.
A place I’ve never stepped foot in my life, but a place where I know I’ll be safe—Santiago’s club.
Chapter Six
WHIP
“Yo, Whip,” I turn my head and look over to the bar where Max’s making himself a drink. He has his cell pulled up to his ear and motions for me to come over. Max’s been with the club a few years. He’s the Sergeant at Arms and controls all our ammo, guns, and whatever other toys we have around the club.
‘Sup?”
“Amsterdam says there’s a woman out front, at the gate. She’s tryin’ to get in and says she knows you.”
There’s been a few times we’ve had some crazy bitches come running into the clubhouse after getting fucked over by one of the other guys. Now we always check and make sure they're not complete psychos before letting them past the gate.
I furrow my brows at Max. “All right. What’s her name?”
Max relays my question to Amsterdam over the phone.
“Says her name’s Vi… or Violet.” Max furrows his brows in confusion. “She told him both, but man, he says she don’t look good at all… ”
Violet?
What the hell would she be doing here?
“What’s he mean she don't look good?”
I fucking hate it when anyone says shit like this. I’m not a fucking mind reader. People can’t just talk in riddles and expect me to decipher it.
