Grant

I didn’t answer her. Just slammed my foot on the gas.

She sat stiff beside me, knuckles white as she gripped the handle, her gaze locked out the window like the city lights were more interesting than the man who just peeled her out of a damn strip club. Like I hadn’t watched some greasy bastard offer cash to see her intimate part.

My hands flexed on the wheel. My jaw throbbed from grinding down rage I couldn’t swallow.

That bastard’s voice echoed like a curse in my skull, ...