Turner says, leaning his shoulder into me as we walk down the sidewalk with two of Brayden's men at our backs and two more blending in with the dirty gloom up ahead of us. That female guard's up there somewhere, arm in arm with a man several inches shorter than I am, pretending to be a couple or some shit. Our protection for the night. Our jail keepers. “At least your plan worked, right? She let us go.”“She knows we'll come back.” My voice is harsh, grating, almost as rough as the filthy concrete beneath my high heels. I keep my words low, just loud enough for Turner to hear. It's not that I really give a shit if anyone else hears us, it's just that I'm well aware of the fact that if I speak any louder, those words will turn into a scream of defiant rage. You're my perfect, little rock star Barbie doll, Naomi. I bite my lower lip so hard it bleeds.My manager essentially just admitted to setting Hayden and Katie off. I don't know how she did it, but if anyone's capable of that kind of manipulation, it'd be her.
