Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
“You need to mind your own fucking business,” he yells. His eyes, now filled with anger, dart from my breasts to my eyes as he stands up straight with his fists clutched at his sides.
“You know she is sick and needs that, right?” I yell right back at him.
“Fuck you, bitch, I remember you. You’re that smart girl I went to school with who was always getting moved ahead, everyone always kissing your ass.”
“Um... well, I don't really know what to say to that. I just came here to talk to you about your aunt.”
“Fuck you, bitch, get outta here.” What the fuck is wrong with this guy? God, he is pissing me off.
“You know if you eased up on buying the ugly tattoos.” I point to the new one. “You would have the money to buy your own.”
He reaches out and slaps me in the face, making me stumble back. My foot lands on top of a tin can from the spilled trash, causing me to trip and fall on my butt. He leans down and shouts, “Fucking cunt, I told you to leave.”
“Shit. Look, I'm not here to piss you off, I just want to take care of your aunt, so how about we make a deal?” I plead, holding one hand to my cheek and the other in the air in surrender.
Fifteen minutes later Dingo and I reach an understanding and I leave, headed back to the condo. I can’t help but feel a heaviness in my chest. I’m dealing to someone else who isn’t sick. Breaking my agreement with the Chief once again. Pulling up in the parking lot, my face is still stinging from where Dingo slapped me. Looking in the rearview mirror, I see my cheek is red and is starting to turn blue in spots. “Damn, great,” I mutter.
Unlocking the main door, I head up the stairs, getting out the key to my place from my pocket. Putting it in the lock, I wiggle the key back and forth. “Jesus, come on. Unlock!” I complain. I hear and feel a snap. “Oh no!” I cry, looking down to see my fingers gripping half a key. Leaning down to the doorknob I see the other half broke off in the lock. “Crap, you gotta be kidding me. Can this day get any worse?” I seethe to myself, pulling out my phone. I dial the real estate management company and get a recording that they are not in today, but I can leave a message and they will get back to me in the morning. I have Mrs. Ruth's cell number, but shit, it's not like she can fix it. I'll just call a locksmith. I sigh, getting out my phone. I google locksmiths, finding one close to me. Calling them they say they can come out, but it might be a while.
Sitting down on the landing, I lean my head against my door tired, hurting, and ready for a nap when I hear the main door open downstairs. Oh shit, no, no, no please don't be him. Pulling my hair over to hide my face, I shut my eyes and hope he will think I’m asleep and will just go on past. I hear footsteps coming up the stairs. They stop abruptly at the top of the landing, and I hear Linc's voice say, “Kitten?” I hear his footsteps again as he starts walking toward me, stopping right in front of my feet. I can feel him looking at me, but I don't move. A hand grabs my shoulder and shakes it. “Hey.” His voice is thick with concern. The warmth from his hand touching me makes my nipples harden instantly. Not moving my head, I open my eyes, looking up to see his beautiful face staring down at me.
“What are you doing out here?” he asks.
“Key broke in the door,” I reply, letting go of my hair, pointing to the lock. His eyes go wide, and he drops to the floor. Grabbing my chin in his hand, he tilts my face up, moving it from side to side, inspecting the red and blue handprint.
“What the fuck happened?” he growls, his voice like the edge of a serrated blade.
“Nothing!” I pull my chin out of his hand, but he tightens his grip, forcing me to look him in the eye. I watch as his beautiful irises go from a soft brilliant blue to dark and stormy. He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, like he is trying to calm down, then releasing my chin, he stands up and asks.
“You call anyone about the lock?”
“Yes, I mutter.
“Good, come on, you can wait at my place,” he demands rather than asks, holding out his hand for me to take it.
“I'll wait here, I don't want to miss them,” I argue.