Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 44963 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44963 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
At the top of the stairs, I pause, remembering the layout. Andrew’s daughter’s room is on the far left. Andrew’s bedroom is on the right. Her door is closed, and the house is silent. It’s the middle of the night. Nobody ventures outside at times like these, except monsters like me.
I keep my hand on my hip as I move toward Andrew’s bedroom. I’d prefer to use the syringe so the man could pass in his sleep, never knowing his life was in danger. He’s not as evil as most of my other targets. He’s not evil at all, in fact. An accountant who dug too deep, not even knowing he was working for the mob.
Is that morality again, trying to interfere?
I push the door open. Moonlight shines across the room in a blue square, coming to rest on Andrew’s face. I stare at him, my heartbeat suddenly picking up. It’s the first time my heart has thundered like this on a job. I killed that part of me when I was a kid. The softness.
The man rolls, giving me a better look at his face. Suddenly, I’m paralyzed. I let out a shaky breath and step back.
A floorboard just outside the room creaks.
“Dad?”
Damn.
The shock of seeing the man in the bed makes me clumsy. Normally, my senses are spread throughout my environment, keyed into any change in sound or temperature or just the general sense of the place. It’s one skill a man like me has to develop if he wants to stay alive.
Andrew opens his eyes, then springs from the bed, raising his hands. He can’t see my face, just a man in a mask. He rushes for the corner of the room. I get there first and pull open the drawer he was going for. In a matter of seconds, I scoop up and dismantle his pistol.
“Don’t,” I snap.
“Who are you?” his daughter yells from the doorway, the light shining behind her.
Andrew takes a step back, staring up at me. It’s like he knows who I am, despite the mask.
“Stay where you are,” I snap at him, taking my silenced pistol from my holster. “Both of you.”
I glance at his daughter in the doorway. I picture her with a shotgun blast to the chest, shrapnel spreading outward, tearing my world to pieces. I know I’ll never be the same again.
She’s on the shorter side, wearing nothing but a tank top and shorts, showing the curviness of her body. Her shape makes me want to drop the gun and run to her, indulge in her large breasts, her wide hips, and her thick, beautiful thighs.
Her light brown hair falls to her shoulders in waves. Her features are naïve, young, and flushed. She doesn’t know how evil this world can be. I find myself wanting to keep it that way, wanting to protect her.
Forever.
What the hell is happening to me? I can normally keep myself focused. It’s clear what I should do. Another mob killer would shoot Andrew in the head, then execute the woman. He’d do it without thinking, but I’ve got my rule. It’s more than that. I can’t ever hurt this woman. I can’t even think about it, can’t imagine putting a bullet inside of her.
She belongs to me. She is mine. I own her.
If circumstances were different, I’d charge across the room, drop the gun, and pull her close to me, driving my hips forward so she could feel how hard she makes me. I’d growl that her voluptuous, youthful body is mine to do with as I wish.
Instead, I pull off my mask, staring at Andrew.
CHAPTER TWO
Violet
Dad gasps when the man pulls off his mask.
Fear has been pulsing through me ever since I walked across the hallway and saw the huge figure standing there.
He’s dressed all in black, his hulking body pushing at the fabric of his clothes. He’s at least six and a half feet tall, his biceps bulging, every inch of him expanding with power. I tell myself to not feel this. Not to feel this shimmering inside of me as he turns and faces me, maskless now.
His hair is silver and catches the moonlight. His eyes are intense, a pale blue that reminds me of a wolf. There’s something about the twitch in his lips. It’s like if he wasn’t holding a gun, if he wasn’t here to hurt my dad, we could form a connection.
What am I thinking? No. This isn’t right. I can’t want this man.
“What do you want?” I whisper, unable to hide the quiver in my voice.
“What I want…”
He trails off, his eyes flitting up and down my body. I don’t even feel like I’m wearing my PJs as his eyes roam over me, moving from my chest to my thighs. He makes me feel naked. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was checking me out, but that’s craziness.