Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Each shout and jab made his muscles tense to react, to knock the man on his ass. But he forced himself to remain still and think through the best course of action.
He’d practiced this exact scenario with Cole before they left the States. A little movement to the side, just a quick-second shift would remove his head from the path of the bullet. But he wouldn’t have time to pause after that. It had to be a single flow of motion. Shift to the side, reach back for the gun while dropping, turning, drawing his own gun, and firing without hesitation.
Christ, it was a shot in the dark. Literally. The odds of turning before he ate a bullet weren’t in his favor, but it was the only shot he had.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Then he moved.
A gunshot rang out—a single jarring bang that resounded in his chest, disorientating him. He blinked at the gun in his hand, at the finger that never made it to the trigger.
The scent of blood clotted the air, so sharp and acrid he could taste it. Was it coming from him? His stomach turned to ice as he ran a numb hand over his head, seeking a wound.
It took him a second to register the overweight man at his feet, sprawled in a dark puddle of gore and leaking from a hole in his temple.
Whoever fired that shot had impeccable aim and could’ve just as easily hit Tate.
A chill swept over him, and he quickly put his back against the building, surveying the perimeter. No movement. No apparent witnesses. The shooter had to have been Van or Lucia.
Another minute passed before the slender form of a woman emerged from behind a car across the street. Lucia.
With a heavy exhale, he seated the gun in the front of his jeans, right next to the delicious ache clenching in his groin. Because fuck him, she was all legs, perky tits, and fearless beauty charging toward him like a warrior princess.
There was nothing sexier than a woman with a gun. But Lucia was more than that. Strong, stunning, and gutsy as all hell, she was badass personified. And to think, she was sick. Dying. She didn’t let it show in the square of her shoulders or the jut of her chin. She looked for all the world like she was bulletproof. Impenetrable.
Except he’d penetrated her, impaled her deeply and thoroughly, and fuck if he didn’t want to do it again.
By the time she reached him, he was so goddamn hard he had to step back and fold his arms across his chest to stop himself from falling on her like a rabid animal.
“Are you pissed?” She crouched beside the body and rifled through the pockets.
“Pissed?” He lowered his arms, dumbfounded. “You saved my life.”
“No, I didn’t.” Pocketing the dead man’s money, she tossed the empty wallet on the ground. “You moved your head. His bullet would’ve missed you. With your gun out and the way you turned so fast, you had the shot.” She glared at the corpse. “Sorry I took that from you. I’ve wanted this kill for years.”
“Why? Who was he?”
“One of Tiago’s stooges.” She rose to her full height and spat on the body. “A serial rapist.”
The pain simmering beneath her voice triggered his protective instincts.
“He hurt you?” He gripped her arm.
“Not anymore.” Pulling away from him, she strode down the alley behind her apartment building.
He wished he would’ve been the one to shoot the fucker. He’d killed before, right alongside Lucia’s sister, and enjoyed every second of it. Evidently, he had an unquenchable thirst for the blood of the guilty.
“What about the body?” he asked her retreating back.
“Leave it.”
He trailed after her, lengthening his strides to catch up. “The police—”
“They can’t touch me.” She set a moderate pace, her steps even and eyes straight ahead. “Tiago, on the other hand, would punish me for killing one of his men.”
His jaw clenched. “Punish you how?”
“Death.” She lifted a shoulder and veered around a dumpster in the narrow alley. “But hey, I didn’t do it, right? I mean, I’ve been in my apartment all night with guards on my door.”
“Jesus, Lucia.” He tipped his head up, probing the dark second-floor windows. “Someone might’ve seen you.”
“Maybe, but it’s their word against that of his two best guards and his favorite girl.”
His favorite girl?
What kind of relationship did she have with Badell? When he gave her medicine, what did she have to do in return? The only information Tate had was the video of her at the compound and Cole’s words.
Her job is to inflict physical and emotional pain. Torture. Sometimes she rapes them.
If she raped the victims, why did she have such a grudging reaction to the rapist she just killed? It didn’t make sense, and he desperately needed to understand.