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 angrier he gets, the worse the taunts become. “You should have heard her scream when I fucked her,” he smirks.
I stumble back, prepared to hear anything come out of his mouth but that.
No. No. There’s no way. He’s lying. I would feel it.
Whether he’s lying or not, I see red and quickly recover, getting through with a devastating blow to his jaw, watching with satisfaction as a spray of blood splatters across the concrete. “You want to win with this shit? You can’t even nick me with the fucking knife,” I taunt him with a smirk as his skills become comical. In any other situation, I’d be laughing by now, but this fucker deserves everything that’s coming his way, especially after claiming he laid his hands on my woman.
Pitbull lets out an angry growl before rushing me, just as I knew he would. So fucking predictable. The knife arches behind his head, and I have no doubt he’s looking for a kill shot. My leg comes flying up in a spinning kick and smacks him right across the face.
He falls back and I take my chance. It’s clear he only has formal training in boxing, which is no match for my extensive MMA skills, and it’s obvious he’s finally come to this realization. He wants the money, and he knows he doesn’t have the skills to take me down.
All this time watching his fights, I thought he would be my hardest opponent, but what I’m seeing now is like facing off against a toddler. Maybe I’m just that filled with rage and desperate to get to Charli that I don’t notice his skills, or if he even has any at all, but it really doesn’t matter to me. I’m gonna kick his ass now, and I’ll kick his ass in the ring.
I push forward and lay into him, but I don’t have time for bullshit. My fist rears back, and I nail him as hard as I can in the temple, once for Charli, once for me, and once for the rest of his opponents who never got the chance to see a fair fight. I follow it up with a punch to the jaw and a few to his eye for good measure.
The fucker goes down, the knife clattering to the concrete floor.
Grabbing the knife, I slide it into my back pocket before looking around to see that the guys are almost done with the rest of Pitbull’s men. Since they don’t need me, I push on to find my girl. There’s only one other door in this place, and I rush to it as fast as I can.
A big lock blocks my entry, and I bring my foot up once again. The door takes a few tries, but it eventually gives way.
The first thing I see is Charli, and I start to rush forward before I notice the big fucking dog guarding her, ferocious growls tearing from deep in his chest. My hands instantly fly up, and I come to a standstill, showing the dog I mean no harm as I take in the scene. This dog isn’t guarding her. He’s protecting her.
My gaze roams over Charli, taking in every fucking bruise marring her skin. I’m desperate to get to her, but I need to get past this dog first. I go over all the ways to show the dog that he can trust me, but I’m coming up blank. All I can think about is Charli and how fucking broken she looks.
The dog must see something he likes as his growls begin to ease and he takes a step backward, his big-ass body pressed firmly at Charli’s side. Keeping my eye on the dog, I slowly make my way toward Charli, not wanting to make any sudden movements.
Charli lies in a heap on the floor. Her precious face is streaked with tears, and those blue eyes that I love are clenched as tightly as possible. Her clothes are torn, but they’re still on her body, so despite everything, I’m still confident he didn’t touch her. “Charli?” I whisper gently, so that I don’t freak her out. I place my hand on her shoulder and her eyes spring open.
Her eyes seek out mine, and she looks at me with fear, begging for me to take her away from this place as the tears stream down her face.
I reach for the duct tape across her mouth and try to slowly peel it off, but the shit must be industrial strength and won’t budge. “Sorry,” I say, leaving the duct tape and moving onto her hands and feet. I know she desperately wants it off, but if I ripped it, she’d probably lose half a lip.
I pull the knife from my back pocket and the dog instantly goes on guard again. I move ever so slightly so the dog can watch my every move as I take her hand in mine. Charli flinches and attempts to scream in pain, though the sound is muffled by her taped mouth, which only pisses the dog off more. I focus on her hand and realize that her wrist is broken. Fuck, it’s not just broken, it’s shattered.