Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58691 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58691 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
“What the hell?” I mutter to myself. I wiggle the frame and try again. It scoots up an inch and then it stops; stuck. That’s not going to do anything but let bugs in. Pushing my hands on top of the frame to close to the hinge, I grunt trying to close it, but it won’t give. Great.
Huffing, I sit on the end of the bed. I wonder if there’s a fan in a closet somewhere. But then that means I have to see Kieran and I’ve had enough of him for one day. It’s so weird seeing him here, especially after my father swore me to stay away from the DeAngelo’s. He used to tell me they were related to the boogieman. I was a child, so believed it.
Darkness fills my chest like the devil just sat beside me and breathed into my face. Just thinking of Kieran does unnatural things to me. He handsome but so dangerous that even the FBI are afraid. He and his family are capable of great things.
A crash and thud across in the other room has me stand, my eyes wide and heart beating. What was that? The sound of guys chuckling has me looking to the bed for my gun only to remember Kieran took it.
“Kieran?” I shout. Hoping he’s nearby, or maybe dropped something in the other room.
Not hearing a response, I slowly head to the door, grab the knob and gently open it enough to see what’s happening. Three guys stand in the hall. They look young, but not too young. One wearing a hat backward, the other not wearing a shirt, and the one right in front of me has pink hair and a lip ring. One catches me opening the door and kicks it open, I can’t help the blood-curdling scream that comes from my small mouth and I slap one in the face out of instinct before shoving him away from me. I try and run down the hall to get away and he slams me up against the wall so hard I fall to my knees with the wind knocked out of me. I cough and heave on all fours, trying to suck in a breath.
A gun goes off and I duck my head down to the ground with my hands on my head, my ears ringing.
“Whoa! Whoa!” the unfamiliar male voices shout, and I raise my head to see them raising their hands all looking at Kieran standing at the end of the hall with his gun aimed at them. My legs tremble, my mouth parted to allow the shallow breathing to escape.
Coming to my side he holds his hand out to help me up, placing mine in his, I can’t help how soft his palm is, and calloused his fingers are as he lifts me up off the floor. Even with his help I can’t help the fear that raddles within me. He handles that gun like an expert, no guilt or shame if he kills someone right now.
“You okay?” He doesn’t take his eyes off the three hoodlums.
“I think so.” I wheeze, my spine hurting from hitting the door frame. Distracted by my pain two of the guys bolt into the old room and out the broken window leaving one of their friends behind, Kieran grabs the one that hit me by the lip ring when he tries to run, ripping it from his lip.
He cries out with pain, blood dripping down his sleeveless shirt as he stumbles down the hall in the opposite direction of the broken window. The guy is feet from the door, and he stops to look over his shoulder. His pale face smeared with blood.
“Don’t fucking think about touching that door, or I’ll blow your fucking head off.” Kieran threatens in such a low husky growl even I shiver. He’s not to be messed with, even I can see that.
The man’s eyes water, both of his hands on his bottom lip as he looks at Kieran with fearful eyes. Kieran now standing beside him, he opens the front door and glares.
“Go, you’re bleeding on my fucking floor.” Kieran slaps the kid upside the head ushering him out the front door and out into the yard. Kieran shoves the guy making him fall to his knees, he kicks him onto his stomach making the man cough. I stop at the threshold to watch.
“Give me your wallet.” Kieran outstretches his free hand, asking for it. His demeanor coming off as impatient when the intruder leans up and reaches into his back jean pocket to pull out a worn leather wallet. Kieran snatches it and slips something out. I can’t see what it is from here, I stand on my tippy toes, my arms crossed trying to see better.
“Eddie Corner,” Kieran reads aloud. “Eighteen years old, lives on 155 Fresco Drive.” He lowers his hand and tosses the wallet and ID back at the kid.