Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Another pop and shake, and the other side sinks.
His bodyguards fly into the front seats. “Shots,” one snaps while the other starts the engine. “Get down!”
Archer shoves me off his lap and hunches toward the floor.
I panic. I don’t know what’s happening outside, but I don’t feel any safer inside with Archer, a man with a target on his back.
“Iris!” he barks when I stumble out the door and run off.
The SUV tries to pull away from the curb, but two more pops sound behind me.
I cover my mouth to muffle my scream. When I glance back, all four tires are flat.
Finding refuge behind the building, I rest against the crumbling brick, shaking and panting.
Someone’s trying to kill him.
I wait … and wait. There are no more shots. No commotion. No sirens.
After fixing my bra and buttoning my shorts, I close my eyes and run my fingers through my hair. When I return to the table, my parents and Eloise give me concerned looks.
My nose wrinkles. “Sorry. I’m uh … not feeling well. Mind if we leave?” I shift my gaze to the front windows.
Another SUV pulls up next to Archer’s. His bodyguards step out first, making no attempt to hide their drawn guns while scoping the area. Then they open one door, Archer dives into the back seat of the other SUV, and it quickly speeds off.
“Of course,” Mom says. “You don’t look well. It might be the coffee.” She gives my dad a nervous smile.
No one notices the disabled SUV across the street when we exit the cafe and take a sharp right toward my parents’ vehicle.
When we return to the house, Eloise rests her hand on my shoulder. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, making a beeline for the bedroom.
I close and lock the door, resting my forehead and flat hands against it. Did I almost die this morning? My heart pounds, confirming that I was in danger, and no one knew it. Opening my eyes, I turn and jump out of my skin.
Jack’s perched on the foot of my bed with his index finger at his lips.
I swallow my yelp, but my tears are a little harder to control.
There’s not an ounce of concern on his face. No shock. No curiosity. No confusion.
My wobbly legs take me to him.
After all, there is something in his expression—firm jaw and eyes set into a slight squint. Anger. He looks angry.
“I’m going to remove his hands one finger at a time,” he murmurs just above a whisper. He’s eerily calm and pragmatic. “Then I will carve my knife into his face and remove his tongue and lips. And because I’m certain he’s looked at you inappropriately, I’ll shove the tip of my knife into his eyeballs just for good measure.”
I wince, stumbling all over my emotions. He’s lost it. Why is he saying this? Did he see me with Archer? Does he know I was in the line of fire less than thirty minutes ago? If he did, would he be this angry and calloused?
“I-I … almost died this morning,” I whisper, hugging myself to keep from shaking.
“You didn’t.”
My head jerks backward. “You didn’t? Not … what happened? Not … are you okay?”
“I know what happened. And I know you’re okay.”
I open my mouth and snap it closed just as quickly.
Jack gives nothing away. His calculated words and calm voice make me dizzy.
“Did you try to kill him?”
His lips twist while he tilts his head to the side. “Did he try to fuck you?”
“Did you shoot his tires?” My tone has never sounded so incredulous.
He doesn’t flinch. I think that’s a yes. But I’m so bewildered, I can’t see the lines, let alone read between them.
“Why would I do something like that, Frankie? After all, the poor guy had a crap day yesterday. His daughter sent a group text with a video attached. Do you want to know what was on the video?”
“How do you know that?” I breathe with barely enough oxygen to give the words life.
“You think you know the rules, but you’re not even supposed to be in the game. Go home. Please.”
“Game? What kind of game involves putting bullets in a man’s tires?”
Jack brings his finger to his lips again when my voice escalates. “People in the protection business have to carry weapons.”
“You’re what? Protecting me?”
“I did today.” Jack grips the back of my legs, tugging me to stand between his spread knees. “Let your parents take you home.” He rests his forehead against my stomach and sighs. His shoulders relax.
“No,” I whisper, combing my fingers through his thick hair.
Who is this man?
“Yes,” he says, lifting my shirt and flicking his tongue into my navel while sliding my shorts and panties down my legs.
“Jack …” My voice trembles.
“Was he going to fuck you?”