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All Jacked Up (Rough Riders #8) Page 72
Author: Lorelei James

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Jesus, Keely, stay Wyoming tough.

“Don’t have anything to say for yourself?”

She swallowed hard. Her voice came out softer than usual. “What do you want me to say, Jack?

You’ve got it all figured out. Got all the blame placed. Good for you. Must be nice to be so f**king perfect.

So goddamn…smug and self-righteous. But the main thing you’re forgetting? Maybe the Milford committee had every right to call your ethics into question.”

He bit off, “What. The. Hell. Are. You. Babbling. About.”

“You set up a fake engagement with me—a woman you professed to hate—just to get a crack at their project. And blame me all you want for your ex-girlfriend having such a big mouth and blabbing your sordid past personal history so your ex-partner could f**k you over in front of a supposed professional organization, but it’s bullshit and you know it. The bottom line is this: you’d already lost any chance at the contract before you decided to shitcan your ethics and pull one over on the committee. You were so f**king desperate to spit in their eye when they didn’t consider you good enough or moral enough to even be considered for their precious f**king project. Did I go along with this charade because I wanted something from you? Yes. Do I feel guilty? No. Because of me and this stupid fake f**king engagement you concocted, you actually had a shot at getting that all-important, career-boosting, f**king over Baxter and Martine project. Whereas, before, you didn’t. And maybe it’s irony or poetic justice or whatever you wanna call it that you’re exactly in the same f**king position now as you were two months ago: no chance in hell of getting what you want.”

Jack laughed harshly. “Listen up and listen good. I won’t be the only one who doesn’t get what I want in this f**ked up situation, because there’s no way in hell I’m ever signing off on this building project, Keely. No. Fucking. Way.”

“I expected nothing less of you, Jack-off.” In angry, jerking movements, Keely tugged off the engagement ring and whipped at his feet as hard as she could. “You’ve got ten minutes to get the f**k off my property or I will call the cops.”

Keely spun on her bootheel and left without looking back.

Jack picked up the ring and stared at it. He felt none of the vindication he’d expected. In fact, he felt sick to his stomach. Like he’d lost more than a job. He’d lost his dignity. His purpose. His morals. His way.

You lost your way a long time ago, buddy. And now you’ve lost the best thing that ever happened to you. Happy?

No. Fuck no. What was wrong with him?

Jesus. When had his life become such a f**ked-up mess? Just when it’d seemed like everything he’d ever wanted was within reach? What kind of f**king moron slapped it away with both hands and harsh words?

He curled his fingers around the ring, half wishing she’d broken the damn thing and shards of metal would dig into his skin. Maybe then he’d feel something besides the utter desolation weighting him down like an anvil.

You did this to yourself. Everything word she said was true and like usual, you didn’t want to hear it.

Go to her. Go after her. Make it right. For both of you. Plead your case. Plead insanity. Just don’t let this get any more out of hand.

The enormity of Jack’s mistake sucked the breath from his lungs. And he’d accused her of having a big mouth? Jesus. Profound shame paralyzed him to the point his damn feet wouldn’t move. He knew he needed to chase Keely down right f**king now. Apologize, grovel, cry, beg, crawl. He’d have his mouth surgically sewn shut to stop from ever spewing such vile bullshit again. He’d devote his life to worshipping her as she deserved. He’d show her a hundred times a day he loved her. If only she’d give him one more chance.

“You heard the lady. Get the f**k out.”

Jack’s head snapped up.

Chet and Remy West were standing side-by-side, fists clenched, postures screaming, We’re gonna kick your ass, dumb f**ker.

“How much did you hear?”

“Enough.”

Silence.

“Fucking great.”

“By my estimation you’ve got six minutes left. And trust me, you don’t wanna be here when Cam McKay gets wind of this,” Chet warned.

“Or Cord,” Remy said.

“Don’t forget Colby is one mean bastard,” Chet added with a sneer.

Remy shrugged. “My money is on Colt.”

“Carter’s no slouch either. It’s them quiet ones ya gotta worry about, huh bro?”

Jack got the warning loud and clear: quiet ones like Chet and Remy, not to mention Keely’s father, would be gunning for him. Soon. “Look. If Keely comes back—”

“We’ll hand your sorry ass to her on a silver f**kin’ platter if you’re stupid enough to stick around,”

Remy snarled.

“Five minutes,” Chet snapped.

“I appreciate that you care about her, but don’t kid yourselves for a second that I don’t care about her too.”

They snorted in stereo.

Which just pissed him off. “And honestly, this is between Keely and me, no one else, so I’m gonna say this once, and feel free to pass this on to all the McKays: back the f**k off.”

“Four minutes,” Remy announced.

Chet leaned forward. “I’ll be honest. Part of me wants you to stick around.”

Fuck this.

His body heeded the message to scram. He stormed out the door, half-shocked he hadn’t felt a crowbar whacking him in the back of the head.

But that wasn’t the West boys’ style. Nor the McKays’. No, that psycho bunch of cowboys would come for him with a full frontal attack, no backstabbing bullshit like Baxter.

Jack welcomed it. In fact, he had half a mind to make some calls and get the whole f**king thing underway.

He had nothing else to lose.

Chapter Twenty-One

Keely didn’t hang around to ensure Jack vacated the premises. Her tires spit gravel as she zoomed off in her truck. The cold, cutting wind from the open window cooled her face, but she couldn’t blame the icy air for the numbness inside her.

Tempting, as she whizzed past the Golden Boot, to belly up to the bar and drown her sorrows. Too public. She’d deal with this humiliation in private.

She drove without direction, lost in her misery. She couldn’t return to her apartment, which was really Jack’s apartment. Neither would she burden her family. Part of her feared her brothers wouldn’t let this situation with Jack slide, but an equal part feared her brothers were all male bluster.

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Lorelei James's Novels
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» All Jacked Up (Rough Riders #8)
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» Cowgirl Up and Ride (Rough Riders #3)