Debase Read online Rachel Van Dyken (Elite Bratva Brotherhood #1)

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Dark, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Elite Bratva Brotherhood Series by Rachel Van Dyken
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Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 108119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
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She frowned her cheeks heating. “It’s August third.”

“August third at one a.m. You’ll be happy to know the reason I’m not dead is because the gun didn’t go off, so save your worry for next year when I try again. Now go be useful somewhere else. And six thirty-two, knock on my door again and I’m going to take one of your hands as a souvenir.”

I slammed the door in her face.

Why did she have to be so provoking?

And beautiful?

And why the hell would me being naked cause her to blush? It made no sense; so much so that I wanted to ask her what sort of girl was still able to blush after what she’d been put through.

I stomped into the bathroom and flipped on the shower. Then I grabbed a brand-new piece of wrapped soap, discarded the paper, and hopped into the shower.

Fresh soap every time.

And no matter how many times I ran that soap over my body, I saw red. All I ever saw…

Was red.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Alice

He’d been completely naked.

Still covered in blood splatters.

And if I heard him correctly, he was talking about killing himself. What sort of guy attempted — according to him — suicide once a year?

My heart constricted.

I tried not to think about how selfish I was being by wanting to see a window, by wanting to be useful.

A knock sounded on the door. I put the remote down and went over to open it, but it opened on its own.

“Hey there.” A woman who looked old enough to be my grandma held out her hand. “I’m Georgie, I have clothes for you.”

“Oh.” I shook her hand firmly, as she sized me up and then winked. “He was right about your sizes. Astonishing, the man’s never been wrong. It’s in his hands. He just feels a woman body and knows what would look good on her. Well, we don’t want to keep him waiting. You know how Andrei gets, impatient little shit—”

Like some kind of ninja phantom, he appeared in the doorway.

“Andrei, we were just talking about you.” She beamed.

He actually smiled at that. “What was it you said? Impatient little shit? Is that my nickname today, Georgie?”

“Someone needs to humble you.” She beamed like she was proud of him, and he seemed intent on ignoring her positive attention. She turned and reached for something in the hallway then pulled in a giant rack with dozens of bags hanging on it along with enough clothes for ten women. “All right, I’ll just leave this here, keep what you like, let me know if you need more, and I’ll bring it back tomorrow.” She leveled him with a sly smile. “If you’re hoping to get a good price on this one, I’d suggest the white dress.”

I felt my body sway.

Price? As in sell me?

To who?

For what?

I tried to keep my expression closed when my heart was squeezing painfully in my chest, he said I was safe.

And I believed him.

“Not selling her, not yet,” he said in a bored voice. “That will be all, Georgie.”

“Bye, handsome.” She winked and closed the door behind her leaving us blanketed in silence.

Andrei was wearing a pair of designer jeans and a long sleeve black shirt that molded to his body like a second skin.

He went to the rack and started looking through it. At that point, I noticed he still wore his leather gloves, these ones were clean.

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask why when he tossed a bag to me. “Keep the heels. I don’t like the Nikes — color’s too loud, and you won’t be needing them. The Prada are nice if you don’t fall flat on your face in them…” He sighed and then pulled down a beautiful black cocktail dress. “This will be perfect for dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“Dinner.”

“With you?”

“No, with a ghost,” he deadpanned. “Do you see anyone else in the room?”

“No.”

“Logic. Try using it,” he snapped then shoved the dress in my hands. “We leave in an hour.”

“We’re leaving?” Why the heck was I repeating everything he said like I was mentally handicapped?

His eyebrows shot up. “I imagined you would learn quicker than this. I don’t owe you explanations, six thirty-two, only my protection, right? Ergo, turn your ass around march into the bathroom, put on the clothes, try not to break your leg in those shoes and do something with that mop of hair on your head—” He frowned and then he went over to the kitchen and grabbed a pair of scissors.

I backed away.

He took another step toward me.

I put a bar stool between us.

“Scissors are the worst weapon to use. The handles get caught on your knuckles. If I was going to hurt you, I’d use a serrated knife. Stop backing away and hold still.”

Shaking, I didn’t move as he walked behind me. His body heat radiated against my back, and it was playing with my head, with my emotions, with everything because I had this weird reaction to his nearness. Like I wanted to lean back against him even though he had scissors in his hands.


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