Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 122074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
He studied me a moment before getting up and returning behind his desk. His hands went into his pockets, and his shoulders hunched forward and down. It gave him a whole different vibe, more relaxed, more trusting, but I knew not to believe it. No matter my own messed-up attraction, no matter how many times I enjoyed the feel of his body against mine, Ashton Walden was still Mafia.
“My family works with the West family, and both of us run this city. I handle a lot, but one of those roles is the authorities. Do you know what I’m referring to?”
My mouth dried. I nodded. “You got cops on your payroll.”
“Cops. Detectives. Feds. Judges. Lawyers. Paralegals. Anyone in a place of authority, and if I don’t have them in my pocket, I have someone right next to them in my pocket. Before his family declared war against mine, Detective Worthing was one of those men.”
“You said that to out him to his partner.”
“I said that to drop a seed in his partner’s mind. Worthing is good at his job. He used to walk the line real well, but yes, now he’ll have to worry about what his partner is thinking and observing. And if Worthing is the man who ordered Walleye to break into your place, I want to know why, and I don’t have time to waste.”
“What about the bomb?”
“It was sent to be analyzed. We were told it was faulty. It was supposed to go off when you opened the door. There was a delay in the switch, so whoever bought it, put it together, or installed it messed up. I’m hoping to get to whoever messed up before their boss gets to them.”
Right. Yeah. Okay. A bomb that was supposed to kill me.
A bomb . . .
Pressure was attacking me from all sides.
Hands touched me on my shoulder. “Breathe, Molly.”
I couldn’t. That was the problem.
I was totally hyperventilating.
I heard someone cursing next to me, and I was being picked up.
I tried fighting, twisting. Reaching for anything, but I was being carried out of the room. We went through a doorway, I reached out, my nails dug into the wood paneling, but he didn’t stop. We didn’t stop. My nail tore. I saw it, registered it, but didn’t feel it.
My body was burning up.
I couldn’t—water was turned on.
Water?
I lifted my head, but we were stepping inside a shower, and the water hit us hard.
I jerked out of his arms. It was Ashton holding me.
I tried getting away from him, away from that water, but he held me against the wall, leaning over, and I gasped again; this time I could get air into my lungs. I drew in deep breaths, trying to fill my lungs as much as I could.
I never wanted to feel that again, never ever.
I felt burning at my eyes but ignored it. The water was cascading down my face. The tears were camouflaged. A firm finger tipped up my chin, lifting my head. That water poured down, washing everything away, and I moved back enough so I could open my eyes just outside of the stream.
He was watching me, his own eyes dark and somber. His thumb moved over my chin. “I’m sorry all of this is happening to you.”
His hand cupped the side of my face, his thumb brushing up and over my cheek before he held the back of my head. His palm was firm, his fingers spreading out, and I felt fully anchored in his hand.
God.
My breath caught again, but my body was warming up.
He moved in, closer, blocking the water.
The air electrified.
We were in our own pocket, like under a waterfall. I could go there, let the world fall away. Let reason and sense fade, wash away with the water, and I wanted that.
I wanted that desperately.
I began reaching for him as his other hand went to my hip, pulling me against him.
His eyes were so intense, molten. They were firmly fixated on my lips.
I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted to feel the pressure of his lips on me, the texture. How he’d taste. How he’d taste me, and I was standing up on my tiptoes as my thoughts ceased.
I was just feeling. Needing.
“Boss—oh shit! Sorry.” Avery’s voice came from the doorway, but I felt Ashton pulling away before he moved back.
The pocket was gone. We were back to this world, where there was murder, bombs, disappointing dads, and the Mafia. Right. That was the world I was now in, fully and completely.
Ashton drew in a ragged breath, and he’d been watching me as reason settled over me, like a wet blanket. His hand slipped from the back of my head, but he drew it around my throat, his thumb grazing my jawline, the side, until he ended it at my chin before letting it drop all the way and taking one more step back.