Free Forgiving Gia (Rocker Series Book 2) by Gina Whitney Page B

hand. “Go get ready, Beauty,” he dismissed me. Clearly the conversation or any intentions were over. He kissed my forehead longingly and turned to enter the bathroom once again. Would I ever get enough of him? I wanted to stay in his suite forever. Hide away from the rest of the world and all its complications.

    We both had stuff to deal with. There was still my mother and Morgana. At that thought, the hairs on the back of my neck went up. They had to be dealt with if I ever wanted a moment’s peace. One tied to me by blood. The other through Abel. I hated my mother. That was for fuck sure. But Morgana—I fucking wanted her dead. And I mean dead dead, too. Nemesis wasn’t even the half of it. The fact she shared anything with my Abel made me fucking sick to the core. I had to do it right, though. Be quicker on my feet. Delve into the ugliest part of my soul…and crush her. How? Without realizing it, I found myself in the hallway.
    Fuck it! I’m an adult. I don’t need an escort to my own room. I had two legs. Time to find my vagina-balls and bring it. Waiting for the elevator, my mind was still contemplating how and what to do to that evil-fucking-hating-bitch-in-heat. There was a yowl in the stairwell to the left of the elevator. Kitty?
    I opened the steel door enough to stick my head in. Another yowl, but that time, it had an edge of pain. Fuck. An injured cat. I rushed into the stairwell. “Psss. Psss. Psss.”
    I took to the steps quickly, whispering, “Kitty. Where are you?” My heart pounded in my ears as the cat’s yowling grew louder and more frequently. Three floors down in the corner of the stairwell was a beautiful Calico on her side. Her paw in an awkward angle and bloody. Her breathing was labored. She was in trouble. Christ almighty. Her leg was broken. Where was the blood coming from? It wasn’t from her leg. How in the world did a cat get in here? Instead of orange and white, the cat’s coat was tinged red throughout. Weren’t cats normally agile on their feet?
    I knelt down and offered my hands submissively, showing her I meant no harm. I cooed softly, but she wasn’t having it. She took a swipe at me. The smell of copper and wet fur made me want to gag. I needed to get help. My phone. I dropped my bag to the floor…rifling through the contents. No fucking phone. I must have left it in Abel’s room. Ugh, God. I did have a scarf. I knelt on my knees, using the scarf to distract kitty. I moved it quickly in front of her along the floor in a snake-like fashion. Her eyes locked on to it. I sprang into action and grabbed her under her belly, careful not to touch her leg. I pulled her close to me and bent awkwardly to reach for my bag. A woman’s cackling shot me up stock-straight with fear.
    I moved to the wall to make myself invisible. I knew that shrill voice. But I couldn’t go there. There was no fucking way she could be there. “Who’s there? I need help. Can you call someone, please?” I waited nervously, giving the woman a chance to respond. Hopefully, it was a guest. Maybe they didn’t speak English. “Pouvez-vous m’aider? J’ai un chat bless e . ” Can you help me? I have an injured cat.
    The sound of heels clicking on the steps had me confident that I finally reached the woman. “In what fucking world would I ever help you, cunt? Imagine that? I want you fucking dead, you scabby-whore grifter. Don’t worry, little one. Soon he will be mine. Have fun with your wounded pussy. You’ll have one just like it soon enough.” Her voice chilled me to the bone. My body drained of all blood. I was sure. I hated the bitch. She was a crazy fucker. Morgana .
    I moved to the banister, looking up…nothing. I then ran to the door to open it, needing to get the fuck out of there. My hand was on the knob, twisting it to open. It was fucking locked. I ran down a flight to the next door. Locked. I repeated this exercise until the door on the second floor finally opened. We burst into the