Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 118333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
I would stare at the ceiling, the room pitch black due to being far away from the city lights. But even in the darkness, I would see my father’s face. I would see Diego’s. I would see their men mobilizing to bring me back. I had no idea if they suspected the Hangmen. But the fact that it was quiet—too quiet–didn’t fill me with hope. Instead, it filled me with such great terror that I touched Tanner whenever I could. Each kiss was given as though it would be our last. I savored his muscles under my hands. His hair through my fingers. And I cherished how this felt—to be with the one I loved.
My fiancé.
My heart.
Leaning in, I kissed Tanner, holding on to him tightly. Tanner kissed me back, then laughed against my lips. My chest warmed as his deep timbre rumbled through me. If we got through this mess, it would be my greatest task—to make this man laugh more.
“If you keep grinding your pussy against me like that we won’t be going nowhere, princess.”
Sighing, I pulled back and got off Tanner’s lap to look at myself in the mirror. I stared at the black jeans I wore, and the tank with the Hangmen emblem in the center. Beauty had brought me more clothes from her store. Every time I looked at myself in the mirror, I had to breathe deeply.
If my father saw me now . . . if he saw that emblem standing in pride of place on my chest . . .
I squeezed my eyes shut when I thought of that man. The man I had loved so much. Idolized. Worshipped . . . to have the illusion shattered by the haunted eyes and timid voice of a serially abused child.
“You ready?” Tanner moved behind me, his hands on my shoulders. He brushed my hair away from my neck and kissed my bare skin. His rough hands ran down my arms, only for his hand to link through my fingers. I couldn’t help but stare at the reflection of us both—Tanner in his dark jeans, boots, white tank and Hangmen cut. And me, his woman, matching him in dress but the complete opposite to him in looks.
To my eyes, I had never seen a couple look more compatible.
Tanner brought my hand to his mouth and laid a kiss on the back. “Come on.” I breathed deeply, trying to quell my nerves. The president, Styx, and his wife were coming to the clubhouse today with their new son. They had been home a few days, but the men had yet to see his new child. Tanner told me there was a celebration to be had in Charon’s honor. And I’d been allowed to attend. For many days I’d been in Tanner’s room with him, not allowed to step outside. I wasn’t sure why I was being allowed to leave now—maybe they finally believed that I never intended to go back to my father. Or perhaps Styx was so overcome with happiness at being a new father that he was being overly lenient. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that I was leaving this room, the safe bubble in which I had found comfort, my small bubble with Tanner.
On seeing my nerves, Tanner turned me from the mirror to face him. He gently dropped his forehead to mine. “You’ll be fine.”
I gave him a forced smile. “I’m Adelita Quintana; of course I will.” Though my family name suddenly didn’t fill me with much confidence.
Tanner didn’t smile back at me. Taking hold of my left hand, he brought it between us, running his thumb over the place his cotton engagement ring once sat. “One day, Lita . . . One day you won’t be a Quintana.” My breathing hitched and a lump clogged my throat at the telltale emotional gravel in Tanner’s voice. His blue eyes met mine. “One day, hopefully soon, you’ll be an Ayers.” He exhaled like it was a breath he had been holding for an eternity. “One day soon, after all these years apart, of fighting and fucking working to make this happen, you’ll finally be mine.”
My hand shook as he spoke those words. It was my greatest dream too. Not to be rich. I’d been rich my entire life and still felt alone. My greatest wish in life was simple. It was him. My Tanner.
“Yes,” I announced, as though he had once again proposed. I kissed the finger that would wear his wedding band. “Soon.” I closed my eyes for a few seconds and let myself imagine what that moment would be like. The moment I said “I do.” The moment Tanner and I wore wedding bands and the priest pronounced us man and wife.
Adela Elizebetta Quintana Ayers.
I frowned. In my culture, we kept our family’s name and took our husband’s name too. But the Quintana name to me now was ruined.