Kansas (Ruthless Kings MC Atlantic City #2) - K.L. Savage Page 0,23

and do what Scarlett said to do. Maybe our mood won’t be so bad once we shower and eat. You know how hangry Veronica gets.”

“Fine. I’ll meet you out there. Don’t go without me. I need to make sure Veronica keeps her trap shut.”

“I won’t say a word, Violet. I’m sorry. I’m stressed out.”

“Yeah, all of us are.” I clutch the bag in my hand, and without a second look, I stomp out the door to head to my room, then slam it shut. I throw the bag in the bathroom, and the plastic hits the wall with a dull thud before falling to the ground.

These emotions are pent up inside me, and all I want to do is scream. I’m not going to be able to be the role model my sisters need, especially Veronica. Even on a good day, she’s always on a warpath. I run to the bed and punch the mattress.

That feels good.

Really good.

I punch it again and the blanket indents with the size of my fist. I alternate hands, going back and forth punching the mattress until I’m sweating. The sweat mixes with the tears, and when I can’t lift my arms anymore, I sag against the bed.

Tired.

Defeated.

Lost.

I snatch the pillow and throw my face into it. I scream into it until I run out of air, and my lungs are begging me to inhale.

“Better.” My voice is muffled by the feathers. Tossing the pillow to the side, I inhale fresh air, my emotions a little more under control than they were before I walked into the room.

This life is going to be a big adjustment.

I drag my feet across the floor to the bathroom and flinch when I look in the mirror. Jesus, I look like I just crashed onto the shore. My curly hair is a mess and stained with blood. Blood doesn’t turn blonde hair red, right? It doesn’t actually stain…

No, that’s stupid.

“Can’t believe I let him see me like this,” I mumble, peeling off his shirt and sweatpants. I hold in a grunt; my muscles ache and pinch as I lean into the shower and grip the handle, turning it to blazing hot.

I step inside and groan when the hot water hits my back. It feels good, so much better than the icy cold caress of the sea. I wrap my fingers around the silver handlebar, using it as support to hold my body up. Leaning my head back, the water slowly soaks into the mass of my hair, and there’s a slight pain where I have those stitches.

I’m probably not supposed to be washing my hair, but I don’t care. I feel disgusting, and I just want to bathe. If anything, Pulse, or is it Fabio? I honestly can’t remember which one is the correct name now…

Anyway, he can stitch me back up if need be.

I lean down and grab the peaches and cream shampoo, pouring a good size amount into my hand. I scrub my hair, careful to keep away from the stitches. The aroma of peaches mingles with the steam, and as I inhale, I relax. It reminds me of summertime with my parents. Mom always made peach cobbler every Saturday, and now…

That familiar sting is back behind my eyes, so I angle my head in the water and let the water wash away the sorrow.

There will be no more peach cobbler Saturdays.

I do a quick wash of my body next and thank the heavens when I see a razor. Looks new and unused, with the protector still on the blades. I lift my arms and drop them immediately when I see the situation.

Oh my god.

I hope Kansas hasn’t seen them.

I look down and inspect other areas.

My legs look like Chewbacca, and don’t get me started on what’s going on between my legs. It’s a danger zone down there. I snag the conditioner and nearly drench my entire body in it, then shave until I’m no longer a lost animal out in the wild.

When I’m done, I dry off and I’m relieved when I see panties still in the package and a tank top with a built-in bra. I get dressed, slipping on my black cheeky undies, then soft shorts along with a plain black shirt that says ‘Ruthless Kings Atlantic City’ on it.

I’m thankful there is not a brush because everyone knows curly hair cannot be brushed, not if we want it to look normal. So I leave it be. When I get to the hallway, my