Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Only a few minutes have passed when Emma leaves the party. She’s got her arm around a dark-skinned woman, clearly drunk, in a sparkly silver jacket and one silver heel. Emma walks awkwardly, one hand on her cell phone.
Then some masked douchebag comes running through the crowd. He’s shirtless, a jock, most likely. Fairly well-built. He’s wearing a large rabbit mask. Emma turns and starts waving her phone at him. Veins stand out on her neck. She looks like she’s yelling. Then the man does something very stupid. He reaches out like he’s going to put his hand on my woman and hurt her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Emma
I’ve written stories about princesses trapped in layers of emotional turmoil, the sadness, resentment, and pain turning into tendrils that wrap around their legs and arms and hold them in place. It was supposed to be a piece about panic, and maybe it worked, but that’s not me. After what I just saw, I snap into action. Phone in hand. 911 on the line.
Now, the man in the rabbit mask has his hand wrapped around my wrist. His eyes gleam as he thrusts his face toward me. “Don’t be a melodramatic little slut. It’s all a bit of fun.”
“That girl was passed out!” I yell, but it’s too loud on the lawn with the party going. Nobody hears me. Chrissy is getting more difficult to hold, her body being limp since they clearly dosed her up, too. “Get away from me!” I try to wrench my hand back, but he holds me in place.
“Just settle do—”
Suddenly, the man is off his feet. It all happens so fast. Dad’s car grunts metallically when somebody shoves the masked man against it. I gasp, almost dropping Chrissy in shock. It’s Logan, his arms bulging out of his fitted black tee, his jaw clean-shaved, showing his lips twisted angrily.
Logan holds him there with one hand, then grabs the man’s mask, pulls it off, and lets it drop. He brings his face close to the man’s. Logan is like an animal, a fairytale protector erupting in rage.
“Fucking coward,” Logan snarls. “Assaulting a woman. Hiding behind a mask.”
I force myself to move, pick up the phone, and talk into it as clearly as possible. My words come quickly, describing what I saw. “I know I sound crazy, but I saw it. Several men were wearing rabbit masks, and some girls were passed out. They drugged my friend.”
When Logan hears this last line, he pulls his head back, headbutts the man, then drops him on the ground. “Get out of here, Emma,” he growls, picking up the mask. Before he puts it on, he leans over and kisses me, just once, on the forehead. He lets it linger as if he’s savoring it. It’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever experienced. “Get your friend somewhere safe. Now.”
“Ma’am? Ma’am?” the 911 operator is saying down the phone. “Are you there? The music is making it difficult to hear.”
“Yes, I… I’m waiting for the cops. What should I do?”
They order me to get away from the property, so I bundle Chrissy into the car, ensure she’s comfortable, and then get into the driver’s seat. Driving away is so difficult, knowing Logan’s in there with all that fury bubbling out of him, all that fire. What if he gets hurt? Some of those freaks might have weapons.
“I’m sorry,” Chrissy moans from the back seat. “I’ve got a boyfriend.”
“It’s okay, hon,” I say, backing the car up. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
I hope.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Logan
Music pumps through the walls as I walk in and out of the rooms. I shove people aside, but nobody starts any trouble. Maybe it’s the fact every vein in my arms is throbbing. Perhaps it’s the fact I could’ve killed that fucker out there for daring to touch my woman.
I heard what Emma said on the phone to the cops—Emma, whose skin, fear, and sweat I can still taste on my lips. I listened to what she saw, what these bastards did. Suddenly, this is bigger than me, Emma, hockey, and my baby. Not in the long term. Not forever, but right now, goddamn. These were babies, too, once. These people deserve protection. Is this how fatherhood changes a person?
I climb up the stairs, then spot a door at the end of the corridor. Two beefy bastards wearing rabbit masks stand in front of it, their arms crossed over their middle. I’m a hockey player, not a fighter. I don’t know what sort of training these men have. I have to be smart and think. I’m sober. They’re probably not. They’re not expecting a fight, but I am.
“Did you get the bitch?” the rabbit on the right asks, almost as tall as me, wearing a gray T-shirt drenched in sweat. “We kept guard like you asked.”