Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 153571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 768(@200wpm)___ 614(@250wpm)___ 512(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 768(@200wpm)___ 614(@250wpm)___ 512(@300wpm)
"Roman, stop." I step up beside him and reach out to grab his arm before he can hit him again.
He turns on me with a vicious snarl. I fight the urge to cower from the look in his eyes. It's as if he's looking right through me, the piercing hazel of his eyes nearly black with rage. With bruises on his jaw, his lip curled up in a snarl, and blood dripping from a cut beneath his eye, he's terrifying and terrifyingly beautiful.
Even so, I'm not afraid of him. Not even with Guerrero's battered, beaten body beneath him and his fist drawn back like he's going to hit me. Not now. Not ever.
"He's done, Roman," I tell him.
"Mila?" He drops his arm back to his side as soon as my name leaves his lips. The rage in his eyes dims as he finally focuses on me, seeing me instead of the beaten man beneath him. He pants, his breath coming in harsh pulls.
"If you kill him, you'll always be looking over your shoulder, waiting for someone to come after you," I whisper for his ears alone. "He's not worth it."
The battle raging inside him plays across his face, a parade of emotions swirling through his eyes. His jaw is firm, his expression hard. Reluctance rolls off him in waves. He knows I'm right, but he wants to kill Guerrero anyway for everything he's done. I don't blame him for that, but if he kills him now, we will never be free.
"I don't want any of us to live that way," I whisper, talking softly…exactly like I would to a dangerous animal that's been backed into a corner. Reaching out, I run my hand through his damp hair and then across his bruised jaw. "Please, Roman. Let it go. Don't give him that power now."
He stares at me for another silent, heartrending moment, and then he groans, the sound agonized. Before I can say anything to soothe his anguish, he's on his feet, dragging me into his arms.
"Mila," he chokes, holding me so tightly I can't breathe.
As soon as I'm in his embrace, his hard body against mine, I crack. Everything I've been pushing away in an attempt to get myself through the waking nightmare of the last two days hits in one big wave. A shudder runs through me, and then I'm crying, sobbing so hard my throat aches. I press myself closer to Roman, trying to climb his body and crawl inside him so he can't ever leave me alone again.
"Baby," he whispers over and over, wrapping his body around mine until I'm completely engulfed by him.
As the rain beats down around us and the ocean roars behind us, he holds me closely, protecting me and putting me back together again, exactly like I need him to do. His heart pounds against my chest, a steady reminder that he's here and it's over. His familiar scent works through me, reminding me that I don't have to breathe for him anymore because he's still breathing for himself.
With his arms around me, steadying me…the panic and fear recede, and my cries slow before stopping altogether. Even then, I cling, refusing to let him go.
"Hi, Daddy," Tahani says a few moments later, looking up at Roman with tears drying on her cheeks. Wariness and fear mingle in her expression, her hazel eyes wide as she chews on her bottom lip. I don't think she knows what to think about everything she just went through, but the desire to hug her father is right there on her face.
Roman stares at her for a long, silent moment, his expression wavering between guilt and relief. Finally, he curses softly and pulls her into his chest, wrapping her up in a big hug.
Tahani sniffles and hugs him back, her thin arms locked tightly around him.
"I missed you, kid," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "I'm so sorry, Tahani. So fucking sorry."
"Me too," she whispers, sniffling again.
Roman hugs her hard while she cries softly.
I move a couple of steps away to give them a moment alone together. I think they both need to come to terms with everything that's happened, not just today but in the last few weeks. They need time to heal.
My gaze shifts away from them, landing on Officer Carter. He stands over Guerrero with a gun in his hands and another still in the sand by his feet. His green eyes are locked on Guerrero, watching him carefully.
With raindrops sending blood down his mangled face in rivulets, Guerrero should look more frightening than ever, but he doesn't. He looks…pathetic. He isn't powerful as he lies in the sand. He's just a sad little man who's lucky to still be breathing. Somehow, despite the beating he took, he's still conscious.
The compulsion to tell him that he'll never beat Roman rises swiftly.