Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“Emilia!” he called, just once before he was quieted.
I slid out of bed and made my way downstairs. The whole situation from the moment I’d found Parker waiting for me inside Michael’s house seemed like it was happening to someone else. I felt almost separate from it, like I was watching through a window.
Will held Michael near the front door, murmuring something I couldn’t hear.
“Em,” Michael barked, pushing past his uncle easily as he rushed toward me. “Are you okay?”
His hands moved over me, much like Otto’s had earlier, searching for any hurts.
“I’m okay,” I murmured, pulling away. “I’m fine.”
“What the fuck, sugar?” he asked, searching my face. “He was waitin’ in the house?”
“He was sitting in the chair,” I replied, glancing at it. I could still hear the thud as he’d tapped his pistol against the arm.
“He’s comin’ ’round,” Gramps said, surprising me. He must’ve gotten there while I was upstairs with Rhett.
“Can’t have that,” Michael’s uncle Casper said, crouching down by Parker’s head. “Hey there,” he greeted with a nasty smile. Then with an easy thump on the back of Parker’s head near his ear, he knocked him back out. “Come on, young’uns. Pick up the garbage, and we’ll take it outta here.”
“Why’re we doin’ all the heavy liftin’?” one of the guys joked as he—and what must’ve been his twin brother—lifted Parker by the armpits and feet.
“’Cause we’re old,” Casper replied, shooing them. “Quit bitchin’ and go out the garage. We’ll take him in Micky’s truck.”
“Hold,” Gramps said. He patted down Parker’s hips and pulled out a set of keys. “Find his car.” He tossed the keys to Rumi. “Take care of it.”
“On it,” Rumi replied. He didn’t even look at me as he left the house.
“Emilia,” Michael said, pulling my attention back to his face. “What happened, baby?”
“What happened?” Otto snapped from across the room. No one stopped him as he stormed forward, stopping just inches from Michael’s face. “You took off and left Emilia and your son to deal with whoever the fuck that was. What the fuck is wrong with you, man?”
“I didn’t leave them to deal,” Michael spat back. “I sent you with ’em.”
“I didn’t even know what the fuck was goin’ on,” Otto shot back, throwing up his hands.
“I asked you to keep an eye on shit.”
“I was out callin’ my girl,” Otto countered, his eyes wild and his breathing heavy. “If she woulda answered her phone, I’d probably still be out there and Emilia’d be in here dead.”
I don’t think anyone had anticipated the punch Otto threw, not even Otto. One second he was glaring daggers at Michael and the next, his voice was breaking and every bit of terror and rage from the night was pouring out of him as he swung.
Thankfully when Otto had stomped toward us, Michael had backed away from me a little, because when Otto’s fist clipped his chin, he staggered.
“Whoops,” Leo said, coming around the side of them to wrap his arm around my waist and physically carry me a few feet out of the way.
“Aren’t you going to stop him?” I asked as Otto swung again.
“Nope,” Leo said, leaning against the wall. “Micky’s got it comin’.”
“He didn’t know—”
Leo shot me a look. “After that scene at the club, he took off poutin’ like a baby and left his teenage brother to look after his woman,” he said flatly. “Fuckin’ stupid.” He looked back at Otto and Michael. “And seriously unfair to Otto.”
“We thought he was gone, man,” Michael said defensively, dodging Otto.
“You didn’t think he was gone.” Otto threw another punch, hitting Michael in the stomach. “Or you wouldn’t have asked me to watch the house.”
“Man, I knew you could handle it,” Michael defended.
“I didn’t know what the fuck I was handlin’, asshole,” Otto spat, his arms finally dropping to his sides. “They coulda fuckin’ died. He was pointin’ a fuckin’ gun at them.”
Michael’s face lost all color as he looked across the room at me, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Otto.
He shoved Michael away from him by the neck of his sweatshirt. “When I hit him, she dropped to the floor,” he choked out. “Covered Rhett so well you couldn’t even see him. Only way you knew he was there is ’cause you could hear him cryin’.” He let out a sharp sob and angrily wiped at his nose with the back of his hand. “She didn’t even hear me calling her name.”
“Alright, son,” Tommy said quietly, putting his hand on Otto’s shoulder. “Alright.”
Otto shrugged off his dad’s hand, ducking his head in embarrassment.
“I knew you didn’t hate me,” I said, my words practically echoing in the suddenly silent house. Otto looked at me. “I mean, I would’ve preferred an ‘I forgive you, Emmy,’ but saving me from a psycho works.”
“Fuck, Em,” Otto said, his body shuddering.