Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 86052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
The guy focuses his attention on the dog, and I see the hesitation in his eyes. He wants to take me. Wants to force my legs apart and take what isn’t his, but he’s too fucking pussy to take his chances against this beast of a dog. With a curse, he slowly backs out of the room and slams the door behind him, making it clear that the dog has no loyalty to him. He probably belongs to Pitbull.
A lock slides into place, and I let out a breath of relief, realizing just how close that was.
The dog relaxes as he turns back to face me, and I give him a small smile, wishing I could somehow express to him how grateful I am for his protection. Then realizing I’m trying to have a silent conversation with a dog, I let out a heavy sigh. I’m more than ready to go right back to my thoughts, when the dog slowly approaches me. He keeps his gaze on mine, watching me closely as though still unsure about me, but then in a swift movement, drops down beside me, making himself comfortable on the ground before placing his giant head on my lap.
I gape down at the dog, wondering what the hell I did to deserve his friendship. It’s the strangest feeling. It’s almost as though I share some sort of connection with this beast, and the need to reach out and give him a scratch pulses through my fingers. But that will have to wait until Xander gets here and my hands are free.
I briefly wonder just how badly the dickheads in the other room have treated this poor dog for him to turn on them the way he did, but one thing I know for sure is that the second I get out of here, he’s coming with me.
With my protection detail right by my side, I let my mind take me back to the sweet memories of Xander, hoping that will be enough to make the pain of this reality sink away into the darkness.
Chapter 22
XANDER
I’m flying up the driveway that leads to the entrance of the warehouse, taking in the property with a sharp eye as the boys flank me. There’s a big metal roller door with a normal wooden door beside it and I move in front of it, quickly surveying what I’m dealing with. I grip the handle and, finding it locked, I bring my foot up and with a heavy blow, the door splinters into pieces and comes crashing down.
The boys and I push through, knowing we just lost the element of surprise. We find a group of at least seven men waiting for us inside, all up and standing, facing the entryway as if they knew we were coming. Pitbull stands front and center, wielding a knife and a sick grin, and the need to end him burns through my veins.
Fuck. I guess we’re about to get a little preview of fight night.
There’s no way to know if these assholes are carrying weapons, but what I do know is that with just a quick glance, it’s clear they haven’t been keeping up with their training. Cole and the guys can handle them. As for Pitbull, he’s the biggest threat here. And he’s all mine.
Not wanting to prolong this a second longer, we rush forward, putting them on the defense.
My eyes remain locked on Pitbull, but some dickhead cuts in front of him. I raise my fist and send him flying with one punch, the crunch of his bones echoing through the old warehouse. With Pitbull back in my sights, I forge ahead without even a glance for my boys, knowing they can handle themselves just as well as I can.
I finally reach Pitbull, who scowls at me with the knife clenched in his fist. His arm strikes out, but I’m ready for him. I block him with ease, and I see the wariness in his eyes when he realizes the knife isn’t going to stop me. I’m here for my girl and nothing is going to stand in my way.
“Where is she?” I growl as my fist comes up in an uppercut to his stomach while my eyes remain locked on any movement he makes, especially any movements which include the knife.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he spits before attempting a kick to knock me off balance. I easily duck out of the way, which only seems to infuriate him. He comes at me with both arms swinging. His moves are a mess, sloppy even, and I realize he’s been drinking. Fucking stupid move on his part. This isn’t the same brutal dickhead I’ve been watching at the Underground. This guy isn’t thinking straight. He isn’t clear in his mind, and every fighter knows you don’t go into a fight without a clear head. Otherwise, you make mistakes. And today, he made the biggest mistake of his life.