Dream Spinner (Dream Team Book 3), Kristen Ashley [reading eggs books txt] 📗

Not to mention, he was tall.

“I kidnapped you,” he reminded me.

“Yes, I remember,” I told him.

“And I still assert that was Evie’s brother’s sitch. I mean, he was the one who swung you girls out there. I was just reacting to his bullshit.”

I could argue that.

I didn’t.

“But regardless,” he shrugged, “I did what I did which really swung you girls out there so it’s up to me to look after you.”

This did not track.

Even a little bit.

“Uh …” was all I could get out to refute his statement.

Cisco didn’t need me to speak.

He had more to say.

“And there’s four of you, only one of me. Which means I need some assistance. Now Evan has that Mag guy. And my girl Ryn got her Boone. But still, the last two of you need to get the lead out. I work hard. I got some cake. But I can’t be payin’ guys to keep an eye on you girls forever. You need men in your beds.”

It sounded strangled when I asked, “Am I in danger?”

“Is the sky blue? Is the earth round?” he asked questions I did not want to hear after I asked if I was in danger. “You’re a woman. It’s a crapshoot you just walkin’ to your car out back. Hell, just bein’ in this sweet, hip pad by yourself. If Pantera was here, some guy broke in to do you harm, he’d shoot him in the face.”

Considering Axl was a commando as a profession, this was probably not far off the mark.

“For sure he’d scrape off that waste-of-space dad of yours,” he continued.

My back went straight at that.

“You’re talking about my father,” I told him.

“Girl, Evie told me he was abusive. She said straight-out you had violence in your life when she was talkin’ about your dad. And Ryn told me you checked out on all of them because he got in your head and you couldn’t even dance all on your own and enjoy it without self-abusin’ when you thought you’d fucked up. I mean, when that’s the case, why do you go make dinner for this asshole every night?”

Boy, Evie and Ryn had talked a lot to this guy.

And that was the embarrassing thing that happened that made me retreat from my friends. I’d been dancing. I’d been loving it. I’d messed up. And I’d lost it …on myself.

This was embarrassing because Ryn had seen that, and I figured she’d told Pepper, Lottie and Evie about it.

Not to mention (and this wasn’t embarrassing, it was mortifying), Axl had seen it too.

“He’s my dad.”

“Yeah, and Ivan the Terrible was a dad, and look how that turned out for his kid.”

Now I was more confused.

Ivan the Terrible?

“What?” I asked.

“The dude beat the shit out of his daughter-in-law because he didn’t like what she was wearin’. His son tried to intervene. Ol’ pops cracked him on the head, killing him. And the woman was pregnant, so she miscarried. That’s quite an afternoon for Ivan.”

Okay, I had to take a sec because …

How had something that had started strange, gotten so much more strange?

“My dad isn’t Ivan the Terrible,” I pointed out.

“Only ’cause he’s not a tsar. If he had carte blanche, where would you be?”

This was a chilling question.

“We’ll let that go …for now,” he allowed. “We’ll let Pantera go for now too. You had dinner?”

“I was actually going to fast tonight,” I told him, and not because it seemed he might ask me to dinner, but because I was going to fast that night.

His head ticked sharply. “Why?”

“Why?” I parroted, since he was looking right at me.

“Your fuckin’ dad,” he bit out, his tone suddenly alarming.

Right, this had to stop.

“Mr. uh …”

“Brett,” he spat. “And tell me, you see the women at Smithie’s?”

“Pardon?”

“Women go there. A lot. And not just since Ian switched shit up. Also not only lesbians gettin’ their groove on. All kinds of women go there to party and to watch.”

I nodded. “It’s a thing. Women have embraced strip clubs.”

And this was true, though I didn’t get it. Maybe female camaraderie. Maybe they thought it was edgy and cool. Whatever it was, we had nearly as many bachelorette parties as we did bachelor ones.

“So what do you think it says, they see a woman with a healthy body flyin’ through the air five feet off the ground, the back of her head nearly touching the heel of her foot?”

I again went still.

He answered his own question.

“It says they can stop eating that bullshit people been feeding them. They can be in shape and do magnificent things and they don’t gotta be ninety pounds to do them. So, I’ll repeat, you had dinner?”

“No,” I answered.

He nodded. “We’re goin’ out.”

“Brett—”

“Hattie, listen to me,” he cut me off, his tone again different. This time gentle, coaxing. “You don’t get this, you never had experience with this, and I’m seeing it’s my place to show you the way. All men are not created equal. There are men who give a shit. Ryn tells me you’re set for Pantera. I can’t go there. And just sayin’, that ass, those curls,” he tipped his head to me, “you’re cute. Normally, I’d be all over that. But Ryn says it’s gotta be Pantera. So this is not that. We’re lettin’ that go. We’re lettin’ your dad go. You’re lettin’ the fast go. And I’m gonna take you to dinner and you’re gonna be around a man who doesn’t treat you like shit. Start you gettin’ used to that. We’ll go from there. Yeah?”

I didn’t know what it was.

I didn’t know why I did it.

But I didn’t hesitate to say, “Yeah.”

He smiled at me, and that decided it.

He was definitely cute.

I walked his way and he escorted me out of my own place like it was his.

The henchman was out there, folding out of the sleek Lincoln town car at the curb in order to open the back door for us.

We got in, and after Brett settled next to me, he