Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 30557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 153(@200wpm)___ 122(@250wpm)___ 102(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 153(@200wpm)___ 122(@250wpm)___ 102(@300wpm)
Martín allowed me access to his cameras, and then I interrogated motherfuckers to within an inch of their lives to learn where my girl was hiding out, praying to the devil that she hadn’t ended up in another motherfucker’s bed because he’d suffer the wrath like no one would know.
After all that searching, she pops up in my neck of the woods. It was pure happenstance that my guard stopped into a restaurant to have lunch with his sister, who works there. He snapped a picture and asked if it was her.
I fucking nearly lost my shit. She’d been smiling up at a six-foot-three bastard in a gray suit as he paid for food. It took me twenty minutes to make my way to the entrance to see it was her. Instead of dragging her ass out by her hair, I set my plan into fucking motion. I felt like fucking hunting. She was going to pay for her transgressions in time.
As if she senses me watching, she turns her head to the window, but she can’t see me because I’m hidden away in my SUV. Everything is blacked out. Still, she knows someone must be out there or around, lurking.
Suddenly, Candy fumbles with the tray in her hands and I reach for the handle to come to her aid, but before she can drop it, her handsy boss helps her catch it. Like a prick, he slides his hand on Candy’s waist, firmly holding her a little too long.
I’m going to kill him. There’s no doubt about it as he continues to linger with his hands on what’s mine. She tries to move slightly, which makes me a little less irritated, but then he clearly doesn’t take the hint.
“Candy, can we get some creamer when you get a chance?” I look over to the man who called my woman to his table, and she gladly smiles at him and his wife. She sets the food down at the table and makes her escape to the couple with a look of gratitude.
I see the man and his expression screams of protective instincts. They’re not lustful ones; those he seems to be throwing the woman at his side who is quite round with his child.
“Thank you,” she mouths before walking away from their table. I know the guy at the table. It’s none other than Maxim Kazakov, a man just like myself. We’ve met before and never had problems, but we might now if he tries to get in my way.
Tonight, I’ll deal with that asshole boss of hers. He’ll be sorry—dead sorry. My hands grip the handle and I crack the fucker, so I step out of the vehicle, keeping out of sight of the restaurant. I have another man sitting in a car down the street.
Tapping on his window, I say, “Don’t leave here. Watch her closely. I’ll be back shortly. My plans have moved up. As soon as he’s gone, bag him and bring him to the place.”
“Yes, boss, and Ms. Bell?”
“My plans for her will begin tonight.”
“Yes, boss.”
I leave the place feeling sadistic as I think about that fucker putting his hands on my woman at all. The gall he has makes me angrier by the second. Did she give him permission, but just not in public? Some women don’t want to be caught showing attention in front of others, or was she truly repulsed but too scared to lose her job? I’ll know soon enough. Damn it. I speed onto the expressway, feeling anything but patient.
Chapter Nine
Candy
A shiver runs up my spine like someone is watching me. It’s been going on for the past few days. I can’t explain it, but every time I look, I don’t see anyone outside the diner. There’s a large black SUV outside across the street or sometimes directly in front, but that could be Maxim’s and his wife’s; they come in and out all of the time because she’s pregnant and loves to eat here. They’ve been truly sweet, even if he’s not considered sweet to others.
Still, there’s another feeling shooting down my spine as I work in the restaurant. It’s as if there’s someone lurking in this nice area, watching me. This isn’t the place for trouble, so it’s not like I expect any bad people, but then again, I’m not thinking about gang violence. No—I’m thinking about a man who probably hates me if he learns I drugged him.
The day after I ran, I saw a news headline about the trailer fire and my mother’s death. Strangely there had been no mention of me as either a possible missing person or a person of interest, given that I’d also lived there, which made me more nervous. I knew it wasn’t an accident and that I’d run at the perfect time, or I would have joined her in that blaze.