Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 134045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 670(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 670(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
I’d make sure that I did it for good this time.
But that was my last choice. Because in however long it took for Robert to get complacent and give me a chance to escape, Nathan would be exposed to a life that was so different than his own it was sickening. A house that couldn’t be messy. That he couldn’t draw on the walls of his bedroom in. That he’d be afraid of spilling in. He’d see his mother with bruises. Maybe even see his father inflicting them.
That was worse than death for me.
That was me failing him as a mother.
So I was standing here begging a stranger for his help.
“We’ll help you,” a different voice said from behind me.
It wasn’t full of hostility. It was soft. Kind. Masculine still, but warm. The accent was slightly off, different. Pleasing.
The man in front of me jerked at the voice, but I turned to see the owner of it.
The man was standing at the entrance to the doors, having obviously entered at some point during my tirade and I hadn’t noticed. He was tall. Muscled. Beautiful, with skin a similar shade than mine, but deeper. He was covered in tattoos, dressed in clothes that didn’t suit the office at all, faded blue jeans, a plain white tee, and biker boots. He had kind eyes. He had eyes that wouldn’t harden themselves from my pain. That wouldn’t turn away.
And he didn’t. He walked forward until he was standing right in front of me. His eyebrow twitched as his gaze focused on my bruise. Those eyes turned a little less kind, anger sparked them. Fury. This stranger was furious about someone hitting me and he didn’t even know me.
“Keltan,” he said, holding out his hand. “Brookes,” he continued. “I own this place.”
It surprised me, because he wasn’t young, but he wasn’t old either. He didn’t really suit this fancy office or the fancy locale. But he also seemed like a powerful guy, not just with his muscles, but his whole aura. It felt light blue. Orange. Strong, loving, fearless.
I took his hand. It was dry. Warm. Huge. The grip was firm, but I had a feeling he was being extremely gentle with me, from his gaze to the softness of his voice. Looking at the man, I knew that he knew how to be hard and scary, like the other one that was watching the exchange. Who hadn’t been gentle with me.
“It’s nice to meet you, Keltan,” I said, my voice shaky, unsure of what to say. “I’m Elena, Phoenix,” I added, realizing I hadn’t uttered my name when I came in here all but clinging to the scary guy’s pant leg begging for help.
I’d changed mine and Nathan’s last name once we’d been in California for a few months and Robert had come knocking at the door. I didn’t want to go back to my maiden name, given to me by abusive, cruel parents. I didn’t want to keep one given to me by an abusive, cruel husband.
So I chose one, one that represented my rebirth.
“Elena,” Keltan repeated, voice firmer than his handshake. “We’re going to get your son back.”
Despite my knowledge of how cruel the world could be, despite wearing it on my face and feeling it in the hole in my heart, I chose to believe this kind man’s words.
Because I had no other choice.
“I can pay,” I said, wiping my clammy palms on my bare legs.
I felt very conscious of the fact I was in a very fancy and expensive office wearing cutoffs and a black tank with a Game of Thrones quote on it. Luckily I was wearing a bra at least, because the room was blissfully cool and whatever dignity I had left would totally be squashed if my nipples started peeking out from my tank in front of Keltan—the owner of Greenstone Security—and Lance Knox—the aggressive man who hadn’t spoken since I had spewed all my crap at him. I didn’t blame him. He probably thought I was an absolute insane person. I didn’t really care what people, even these hot guys—I noticed in a detached way that both of these men were incredibly attractive but I didn’t focus on that because I wasn’t focusing on anything that wasn’t my getting my son back—thought of me right now. They could decide I was Susanna from Girl Interrupted for all I cared, as long as they got Nathan back.
Despite being detached from caring about what people thought of me, my outfit was decidedly inappropriate in this atmosphere, it was what I had been in to pick Nathan up from school. As little as possible, as my AC in my junker of a car had just crapped out and I still had two more paychecks to go before I could complete my car fund and buy a new one.