Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 68937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
His hand closed around the baked beans, and I relinquished it to him.
His chuckle was the best thing I’d ever tasted.
“You’re safe now, killer,” he teased.
“Thanks,” I said. “It makes me happy to know that you are here.”
He pulled back, then gestured toward the table behind him.
My heart literally melted as I saw the McDonald’s and coffee.
“You went to my favorite coffee shop,” I said.
“Vanilla latte, single shot, decaf because you’re about to go to bed.” He recited the order. “You order that a lot.”
I did.
“It’s my favorite,” I admitted as I moved to look into the bag of food. “How did you know that I wanted McDonald’s?”
“Because you mentioned it to your brother half a dozen times,” he explained, looking confused that I would ask that when it was clearly the obvious answer. “I was going to let you eat there, but I saw that Copper called in food from a diner down the street. And he got you scrambled eggs which I know you don’t eat.”
I winced.
Once upon a time, Copper had known everything there was to know about me.
But I wasn’t that little girl anymore that loved scrambled eggs.
I actually hated them now.
They smelled like wet dog, and I couldn’t ever get over the smell.
But it only made me feel even worse because, once upon a time, Copper was a happy, carefree seventeen-year-old with the world ahead of him. Then he’d walked into the kitchen after school and seen me being assaulted by my father.
If I could erase time and keep him from seeing that, I would. If I could make it to where that had happened before he’d gotten home, I would.
I never, ever wanted my brother to go to prison. At least, not for my safety.
I was nothing in this world.
My brother had been everything.
Even now, with my years of therapy under my belt, I couldn’t turn off that little voice inside of my head that said that I didn’t deserve to be happy. Not at Copper’s expense.
Later, I’d choke those eggs down.
Later, I’d give my brother a hug and endure the stupid bullshit that I would have to endure with Castanon Enterprises, and I’d be happy while doing it. All because my brother had given the ultimate sacrifice to save me from a life worse than hell.
Soft fingertips touched my cheek, and I glanced up into beautiful brown eyes.
“Hey,” he said softly. “You’re okay.”
I swallowed hard. “I’m broken inside, Dima.”
His lips twitched. “Maybe together, we can make a whole.”
Maybe together, we can make a whole.
As the shift wound to an end, and Dima waited outside for me to get off, I repeated those words in my head over and over.
Dima knew me well.
Sure, he only knew me well because he’d been watching my every move for weeks without my knowledge, but for some reason, that didn’t bother me too badly.
“It was great working with you today,” Melody cooed as she walked out the door with me.
I nearly rolled my eyes, but stopped myself before letting her know how much I disliked her.
If she didn’t suspect me, when she found herself without a job tomorrow, she wouldn’t point any fingers my way.
“Sure, I had fun as well,” I lied.
I spotted Dima across the road and waved.
He’d give me a ride back to my car on his bike.
Where my brothers rode Harleys, Dima’s motorcycle was black, sleek, and fast.
Not saying that my brothers’ couldn’t haul ass as well, but Dima’s looked and sounded like it would go faster than the speed of light.
I idly wondered how many cops he’d outrun on that vehicle.
“Have a good day,” Melody called out as she started walking in the opposite direction.
I waved at her, not replying.
She smiled and scooted off down the street, and I stopped on the curb and looked both ways before crossing the street.
When I got to the alley in which Dima was parked, I walked right up to him and threaded my arms around his neck—which, might I add, he allowed by bending down for me.
“Ready to ride, doll face?” he asked.
I grinned.
“Killer earlier, and doll face now,” I teased. “Those two don’t even go together.”
He shrugged, his eyes dark and unfathomable. “I call it like I see it.”
I turned toward his bike and said, “I’ve been on my brothers’ bikes a bunch of times. But I have yet to be on one of these. Where do I put my feet to get on?”
He mounted the bike, then held out his hand before telling me where to place my feet.
The bike was quite a bit less comfortable to be on the back of, but I figured the trade out of being pressed completely against Dima’s back might make up for it.
And let me tell you something, the thought of being pressed up against him, and being actually pressed up against him, were two completely different things.