Total pages in book: 767
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
I go colder than the morgue.
Bruno is out. Quincy told me ten minutes earlier he’s letting him run free for exercise.
“Valentina!” My voice carries through the window, because she lifts her head with a frown.
Jumping to action, I sprint as fast as my limp allows to the backdoor, my body in fight mode. I clear the house in record speed, but my voice didn’t only attract Valentina’s attention. The Boerboel rounds the corner, his ears drawn back in alert. My heart stops. My lungs collapse, making it impossible to draw in a breath.
“Quincy!” Where the fuck is he? “Valentina!”
I don’t have time to elaborate on my warning. The dog spots her and charges.
Chapter Eight
Gabriel
The chances are in Bruno’s favor of making it to Valentina before I do, and I don’t have my gun on me. I throw my weight behind my effort, but my disability makes me too slow.
One more second and Bruno is next to the wall. Horrible visions play off in my mind. I reach for Valentina with an outstretched arm, trying to throw myself between her and the dog, but Bruno is at her feet, his enormous jaw going straight for her delicate ankle. I’m about to tackle and strangle the animal when the fact that he’s licking her leg instead of tearing her apart registers in my frantic mind. I barely stop myself from crashing head-on into both of them. My hands are shaking, and my skin is clammy. The powerful rush of adrenalin drops as quickly as it has flared, making me feel physically ill. I swallow several times to suppress the urge to puke. While I’m battling to settle my guts, Bruno slobbers all over her.
Valentina gives me a confused look, uncertainty creeping into her eyes. She puts a plate with a half-eaten serving of Shepard’s Pie on the wall and pushes it away from her, as if the food is the cause of my reaction. Bruno puts his forepaws on the wall and stretches. When she scratches behind his ear, he closes his eyes, and tilts his head to her touch.
“Is everything all right?” she asks in a small voice.
I must look like I feel––a fucking madman.
Quincy comes running from the back, jogging up when he spots me. He stops with his hands on his hips, looking between Valentina and me. “What’s going on?”
I can’t look at him right now. The chances are too big that I’ll rip his head from his body.
Instead, I lock gazes with Valentina.
“What the fuck are you doing outside when the dog is loose?”
She stops petting Bruno and drops her hand. “He doesn’t mind me.”
“He’s a guard dog, not a lapdog.”
The vixen dares to challenge me. “He seems friendly enough to me.”
“She’s right,” Quincy adds quickly. “Bruno likes her. He won’t attack.”
“You,” I turn to him with ice in my tone, “are supposed to check that nobody is out before you let him loose.”
“It’s not Quincy’s fault,” she says. “I didn’t tell him I was coming outside.”
She’s covering for Quincy? With the aftermath of the adrenalin still burning in my veins and my leg aching like a bitch from the overexertion, this is as much as I can take.
I grab her arm and pull her from the wall, catching her around the waist before she falls.
“Inside.”
Her face pales at my tone, even if the command was no louder than a whisper.
Quincy lifts his palms. “Gabriel, take it easy.”
“Are you giving me an order?”
He backs down. “Of course not.”
“Next time, follow instructions,” I snarl.
I don’t care that Marie stops to look at us as I drag Valentina behind me through the kitchen. I don’t stop until I get to the gym. Shoving her inside, I lock the door and turn to face her. She wraps her arms around herself, regarding me calmly, but there’s wariness in her eyes.
For a moment, I just look at her. The thought of anything happening to her leaves an acidic, bitter, fucking horrible taste in my mouth. The intensity of the notion shocks me to my core. I hate her for it. I hate her for the crippling anguish I suffered on her behalf. It’s a goddamn sick feeling, and it makes me fucking weak. I like my sex wild, and I love a woman’s tears, which is why I sleep with women who crave my money enough to take what comes with having sex with me. But Valentina? I never wanted to hurt her up to this moment. When I belted her, it was to prevent Magda from killing her. Yes, it turned me on, but I regretted it. Now, I want to paddle her ass until she screams. I want to punish her for what I feel.
I undo the buttons of my shirt cuffs and fold them back twice. Her eyes follow the movement, but she says nothing. It’s only when I walk to the weight bench and sit down that she finds her voice.