Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Armed with my wine, I strip off my jeans and head back into the living room in just my black tank top and boy short panties. There’s little chance I’ll be leaving again, so I should at least be comfortable if I’m going to stare at the ceiling for the second night in a row.
I settle on the couch, lying down, the glass of wine perched on my belly, my hand cradling it gently. But I barely have time to regulate my breathing when someone knocks on the door.
I sit up and take one long draw of the wine before shuffling across the room to grab my hoodie, or more specifically, the small gun in the front pocket.
There’s another knock, this one more insistent. I shouldn’t have visitors. This is a safe house. No one knows it exists except the former owners, and they are currently on a sailboat exploring the Florida coastline.
I open the first door, then creep into the vestibule, careful not to make a sound. Someone pounds on the door this time.
“Open up, please.”
There’s something familiar about that voice, but I can’t place it.
“No thanks, go away,” I call back.
There’s a scuffling sound on the concrete steps and quiet again. “Open the door, Selena. No one out here will hurt you.”
That doesn’t sound very comforting. Especially since the way he worded it made it seem like there’s more than just him. “I’ll open the door, but if you or anyone else makes any sort of move, I’ll shoot, no questions asked.”
The voice drips bored, pampered princess. “Fine.”
I crack the locks then step behind the door, open it, pointing my gun at whomever is about to walk in. The first is a well-dressed man I don’t recognize. The second is holding a gun to his back, and it hits me like a jolt of lightning. It’s the man from the subway.
I cradle my wine to my chest and keep the gun pointed at the second man. He seems like the bigger threat. “What do you want?”
He kicks the door closed with his heel and tilts his head to indicate he wants me to go in ahead of them.
I don’t take orders from people, especially not assholes who threaten to stab me. “Excuse me. This is my house. I don’t know this man, and I don’t give a shit if you shoot him. Holding a gun on him bears no threat to me.”
“Then why are we arguing instead of going inside where it’s warm?”
Goosebumps trail down my legs, making me shiver and reminding me I’m not wearing pants. “Fine.”
I lead them both into my living room and give it a sad look. It’s a beautiful home, but now that others know it exists, I’ll have to move to another place. I face the men again. The well-dressed one with his perfectly coiffed hair looks calm, serene even, as he stands with his hands crossed in front of him. I point the gun at him. “You. What do you want?”
He smiles. A slick, smarmy split of his lips I know all too well. It’s the smile of a man about to unload a bunch of bullshit. And it’s a little wasteful to see it on such a pretty face. “I’m here to offer you sanctuary on behalf of my council.”
I snort, remembering how my brother’s bid for sanctuary turned out. This man can’t protect me anymore than I could protect my own flesh and blood. “Sanctuary means shit to my council or yours. The second the season opened, and all hell broke loose, my council broke their word when they refused to protect my brother. I don’t trust my city’s current leadership—or yours. No matter where you are from.”
He opens his hands, palms out, the picture of propriety. More like the doodle of delusion. He tops it all off with a glaze of sticky earnestness which might work on someone not raised to detect lies of all kinds, but not me. Even when they are spoken from plush lips and sculpted cheekbones. “Your council didn’t protect your brother, but I did. I even helped smooth over some trouble to get him to safety when he was taken captive by our former head councilwoman.” He tilts his head toward the other man. “This one can tell you. He was there.”
The second man lowers his gun and tucks it into a holster under his arm. Then he strips off his sunglasses and hat. His black curls are smushed down from the ball cap, but without the disguise, he looks almost…beautiful.
I blink, staring between them. “I’m confused.”
The councilman speaks first. “This one is a friend of your brother, whom I assume he sent to keep you safe. I, however, am offering long-term protection. Align with me, join our councils, and we will be unstoppable.”