Venom's Secret (Iron Vex MC Book 4) by Elizabeth Knox (guided reading books .txt) 📕

caught her slip up last week in church. In all honesty her mess up the other day had me analyzing some past conversations.

They’re tying them into the cult again, getting them deep in their roots.

Her words have replayed in my mind more times than I care to admit. She spoke like she knew facts about them, and while I want to believe if she did have firsthand knowledge about them, she would’ve said somethin’ . . . there’s a part of me that thinks Vanna’s hiding something. I don’t know what her secret is, but if I had to guess I’d say she’s a victim of the cult, that they took someone away from her. I haven’t asked her flat out ‘cause I’m givin’ her the opportunity to tell me, but she’s pretty much left me with no choice.

No choice when it comes to what I’m doin’ right now. I scroll on my phone to Google and take a photo of her I took the other day, then do a reverse image search. While I doubt, she had a dermal piercing in the past or violet hair, I’m sure she must look the same.

I click the search button after uploading her image and wait for something to register. A multitude of hits appear before me, so naturally I tap on the first one and the headline immediately causes reason for concern.

University of Kansas track star found dead. Authorities suspect foul play.

Inhaling deeply, I see a much younger blonde version of Venom in the photograph attached to the article. There isn’t one piercing or tattoo visible. She just looks like a young, college girl. No, scratch that. She looks like a happy college girl.

Scanning my eyes over the article, I read the entire thing.

University of Kansas track star, Vanna Markle, found dead. Authorities are suspecting foul play at this time due to the nature in which her remains were found. If anyone has any information on what happened to Ms. Markle, you’re encouraged to reach out to Detective Jack Lawson.

Ms. Markle was reported missing two weeks ago by her friend and fellow member of the track team, Tasha. When Ms. Markle disappeared it was only a week before her twenty-first birthday. A time where the two women should’ve been celebrating, but sadly it’s turned sour.

Ms. Markle leaves behind a daughter, Peyton, whom she shares with her widow, Eric Markle.

How can this be? Vanna isn’t dead. In fact, she’s standing in front of the stage right now, staring down the crowd while she’s working, protecting this comedian who’s makin’ the whole fuckin’ place bust out into laughter.

I tap back on the screen and look at the other photographs, all a new rendition of the article I read just moments ago. I read through them all until I see an update on Eric and Peyton Markle, stating that after no answers were found they moved to Wyoming for a fresh start. Only there’s a photo attached of the guy with the little girl, who can’t be more than three. She has the blondest hair I’ve ever seen and instantly those bright green eyes her momma has shine back at me. Now her husband looks like a real creep, and my eyes slowly drift over to the stage where Venom’s working. Why would she keep this from me? What would be the fuckin’ point in doin’ that?

I can’t put this together in my head, no matter what, I can’t figure out why she would’ve kept this from me, why she wouldn’t have said anything.

Venom isn’t just my best friend, she’s the woman I could envision my entire future with. Fuck, I’ve never said that about anyone, but her . . . she calls to me in a way no other chick ever has.

Man, I’m aggravated, but I know I need to put my feelings aside. There must be a reason for what she’s done and later tonight I’ll find out what her reasoning is. I only have to give her the benefit of the doubt until then.

Chapter Twelve

Venom

The sooner I get away from this dude on stage, who thinks he’s fuckin’ hysterical, the better. I normally work concerts, sometimes there’s a few intimate shows thrown in here and there, but man, a comedy routine? At first, I thought this was gonna be a great night, how I might even get a few laughs in, but the guy with the spotlight on him must be in his early twenties and his entire routine is immature. I haven’t laughed once tonight, and I doubt I will.

He finishes his set and the crowd applauds him while he says his goodbyes. Reno and I both make sure he gets backstage safely and we watch the crowd disburse. Our job is to make sure no one jumps on stage to be with the dude and then we’re crowd control, makin’ sure they get their asses out of the venue safely.

After another thirty minutes, Reno and I are off the clock. Thank God, I’m exhausted and I’m damn ready for a bite to eat. My stomach grumbles loudly as I approach Ricochet, who’s giving me a ride back to the club since Hoodrat’s been workin’ on my bike the last couple days.

“Hey,” I murmur, sitting on the barstool directly beside him.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Ricochet says with a grumble. He immediately stands up and starts walking off in the direction of the entrance. I blink at him in disbelief as he reaches the doorway, and he quickly disappears up the stairwell that leads to the street.

“Shit, what’s his problem?” Reno asks, and I know they haven’t been on the best of terms since they had that tiff, but . . . I’m so lost right now.

“No idea,” I murmur lowly, starting to make my way through the crowd to follow him. A tug at my wrist causes me to look back and Reno rakes his eyes up and down my body, the same way he did the