Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 95025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“I AM A REAL DOCTOR!” Joe yelled.
“No you’re not, Ana. You put people to sleep. Big fuckin’ deal,” Quick snarled. “I can do that.”
He heard Joe take a deep breath and pause before blowing it out, like he was trying to gain back his composure. He guessed the man had realized he obviously couldn’t best Quick with physical strength, so he returned to the one method of negotiation he’d mastered. Money.
“I’m talking cold, hard cash… Quick.” Joe said his name so snidely, that Quick surprised even himself by not taking a swing at the guy. “That’s usually what gets you hoodlums’ attention, isn’t it? Five hundred thousand sound fair? Imagine how many guns you could buy with that amount.”
Quick was almost to his breaking point. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold it together. His hands ached from being clenched in fists for so long and his body began to heat as if his blood really did boil with rage. His fury could consume him if he let it, or if he was really provoked. So Quick gave one last warning. “You’d better get the fuck out of here before I hurt you.”
“That’s all you can do is fight, huh?”
Damnit. Now that stung. But the truth always did. Fighting was all he knew. Martial arts was the only thing he’d studied since high school. He didn’t have years of college under his belt. But he did have an eighth degree black belt. It was equivalent in years of study to a college doctorate, but no one cared to know that. It was all just fighting to someone on the outside looking in. He was honored and called a Grandmaster by lower degree belts and he was damn proud of it. But, now, Dr. Joe was trying to make him feel like he was inadequate, and Quick couldn’t have that. He knew who he was and what he’d become.
He’d come so far from the angry little boy who was raised by his grumpy, homophobic father and even grumpier grandfather on a small farm in Clarence City, NY, just a half-hour outside of Buffalo. His mother had called it quits on all of them when he was just a boy, leaving him to fend for himself against his two angry older brothers. It wasn’t an easy childhood. He had difficulty reading and was forced to wear hand-me-down clothes that didn’t fit properly, which earned him an ample amount of teasing and bullying in school. It became harder every year to take so much abuse. But eventually, Rome got sick of the teasing, the beatings. He was tired of getting so angry he’d black out.
That was when he walked off the street and into his master’s dojo. He’d been fighting and was beaten and bruised by gang members in his neighborhood. His master must have seen something in him, because he became a student that same evening… for free. It was Master Yung who taught him to control his rage instead of letting it control him, and to channel it into something constructive. That’s when he met Duke and his father. They took him in, and taught him the bounty hunting business and how to use his fighting for what was right.
Any man can hurt someone, but a real man can heal. It took a while for Quick to know his master wasn’t talking only about medical healing, because Quick wasn’t a doctor, but about emotional healing. Quick had the power to do that. Even though Cayson was the doctor, he was the one who needed healing. Quick had wasted enough time on this conversation; he needed to get back to Cayson before he came out of the bathroom to an empty bed. He told himself he was more than good enough for his guy. He’d grown into a smart, respected businessman, a loyal best friend, and a good father. He was hoping to soon add a good boyfriend to that list of accomplishments. That’s more than a lot of men can say for themselves in this world today.
“One million dollars!” Joe blurted, immediately yanking Quick’s attention back to him. “Yeah. I thought that would get your attention. All you have to do is forget Cayson exists. One million dollars cash, today. My final offer.” Joe looked so damn confident, but Quick was stunned to silence not by the number he was offered, but that the man truly believed Quick could be bought and Cayson was a prize at an auction.
“You son of a bitch.” Quick poked one finger into Joe’s chest, hard enough to leave a mark. “I’m going to go back inside and make love to my man. When he’s relaxed and feels appreciated, I’m going to tell him just what type of unbelievable animal you really are. Now, this is my final offer. Get the hell out of here, before I forget why I haven’t laid you out on your ass yet!”