Dirty Sexy Alphas (Twenty Book Box Set) - Hannah Ford Page 0,131

crossed my legs. My knee was shaking and wouldn’t stop.

I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And the whole time, I just kept getting angrier and angrier.

I hated that I had no control over my life, hated that I was made to just sit here and wait for Colt to decide when it was time to take me back to the shelter. It reminded me of all those nights waiting in the social services office on some dirty bench, while a social worker called around to different foster parents, begging them to take me in.

It was awful and demoralizing and I had no say in any of it.

I was sick of feeling out of control, sick of feeling like someone else was making decisions for me.

I got out of Colt’s car and walked toward Loose Cannons. Well, it was more like stomping, actually. By the time I got to the back entrance, I was pissed as hell. I hesitated for a second at the door that said employees only, wondering what I would do if there was a security guard or someone standing inside who was going to ask me what I was doing.

But then I realized I didn’t care if there was. In fact, I almost welcomed it. I hoped someone did try to stop me. I’d tell them I’d been the victim of a purse snatching, and it was none other than their owner, Colt Cannon, who’d done it.

I flung open the door. But there was no one waiting on the other side.

I was in some kind of back hallway, where everything was dark and quiet. The walls and floor were made of cinderblocks, and the faint smell of smoke wafted through the air. It was slightly chilly, like maybe there were no heating vents back here.

To my right was a dead end, and to the left the hallway stretched about a hundred feet before turning to the right and merging with another corridor. I could see brighter light shining from the other hallway, which probably led to the main part of the club. It must have been some kind of utility or delivery entrance I’d just come through.

I turned to my left and starting making my way to the end of the hallway. I only passed one door, a heavy black one with a laminated sign that read “KITCHEN.”When I got to the end of the hall, I followed the light and turned into the other corridor. This one was bright and carpeted and warm, and I could hear the low murmur of voices coming from somewhere nearby, but I still couldn’t see anyone.

Part of me wanted to turn around and head back to the car, but the bigger part of me was saying, screw it. What did I expect, that I would open the door and Colt would just be sitting there, waiting with my purse? And it wasn’t like I was doing anything wrong by being here. He took my purse. I had a right to follow him if I wanted to.

I took a deep breath and started walking down the hall. All the doors leading off it were made of heavy oak, with glass windows, like you would see in an office building.

One of the doors was open, and I made my way toward it carefully, hoping that if Colt wasn’t in the room, whoever it was would be friendly. Or at least know where he was.

I crept closer and that’s when I heard it – the sound of someone crying. A girl. She was sobbing, the kind of sobs I knew all too well. The kind of sobs you made when you were tortured by something, when you’d sunk to a depth of despair you weren’t even sure was possible.

I had a partial view into the room now, and it looked like a lounge or break room. There was a leather couch pushed up against the wall with a cream-colored marble coffee table sitting in front of it.

A girl with long blonde hair was sitting on the couch, hunched over, her hair falling into her face. She was wearing tight gold spandex shorts and an oversized navy sweatshirt. It was an odd outfit to be wearing, but maybe someone had given her the sweatshirt because she was cold.

There was a guy sitting next to her, young, maybe a couple years older than me. He had his arm around the blond girl and he pulled her close to him while she cried. She shifted on the couch and