Series: The Rossi Crime Family Series by J.L. Beck
Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 56905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
He takes a step toward me, his hands reaching out for my arms, just as I roll to the side and off the bed. A growl emits from his lungs and he lunges for me this time. Once again, I manage to be a hair faster than him and escape his hold.
My gaze swings to his hands, ones that are coming right for me, but I don’t see his knife until it’s too late. My eyes widen, as the blade slices through my skin. Pain lances across my flesh, the adrenaline pumping through my veins acting as a painkiller, but the pain is nothing in comparison to possibly being caught by him. I rush toward the door, uncaring of my injury, only feeling the need to flee.
Three feet away from the door he catches up to me, grabbing me by the back of the shirt, the sound of the fabric ripping, as he drags me backward fills my ears. My teeth rattle inside my head, as he throws me down on the ground, my body hitting the unforgiving floor, with a loud thud causing my bones, and flesh to throb with pain.
When I look up at him, I see he is already swinging the knife at me, the glint of the blade shining in the light above, and for a split second I think this is it.
This is how I’m going to die.
After fighting so hard to get to where I am, this is how I will die?
I squeeze my eyes shut, a silent prayer on the tip of my tongue.
When nothing happens and the deafening sound of silence echoes through my apartment my eyes flutter open. I blink, trying to figure out what is going on. The man who was standing in front of me a moment ago is crumbled on the floor like a rag doll. My eyes roam over his face, his eyes are open, but he isn’t looking at me, in fact he isn’t looking at anything and I realize then why… it’s because he is dead.
There is a bullet hole the size of a quarter in his forehead. At the realization, a scream catches in my throat. The blood dripping down between his eyes, and over the bridge of his nose, running down onto my gray and blue rug finally hits me.
I can’t think. I can’t move. The air stills inside my lungs, and for a moment there is complete silence, all before a painful ringing fills my ears. I don’t move a single muscle until I see the reflection of someone in the TV screen coming up behind me. Shit, they killed him, and now they’re going to kill me too.
Without thinking I grab the knife the dead guy dropped on the way down to the ground. I can hear my pulse thrumming in my ears, and I grip onto the handle with a death grip as I push up off the floor and swing around to face my second intruder.
My eyes lock on a familiar pair of pale blue eyes that have haunted me every night since the day he ruined us and broke my heart.
Time stops. The entire world fades away, leaving just him and I suspended in time.
How? Why?
I blink, then I blink again, hoping that maybe I can rid the image before me from my eyes, but I’m still seeing the same thing even though I know it’s not possible. I haven’t seen him in years and yet, he’s here, standing in front of me looking ten times darker, and still impossibly handsome.
Fuck. I must be dead. This is not real. Maybe I hit my head and now I’m seeing things. I momentarily bring my hand to my head to feel for a bump. Nothing. He stares at me, his eyes piercing through me, holding me in place.
“You brought a knife to a gunfight?” His thick brow is raised in question. The sound of his voice washes over me. It comforts and destroys me all at once, piecing together the broken shards of my heart, only to break them all over again.
His voice is deeper, rougher than it used to be, almost like he’s swallowed a handful of gravel. His blue eyes remain on me, looking at me with an emotion I don’t understand.
He’s bigger, his body nothing but a wall of muscle, his russet brown hair is no longer long, but cut in a military style, short and close to his scalp. Obviously, time has been good to him, which only angers me more.
My stomach clenches as I roam over every inch of him. He’s dressed from head to toe in black, his entire body vibrating with fury, that doesn’t match the look he’s giving me.
“L-Luke?” My voice is unsure and shaky, reflecting just the way I feel right now. It’s like even though I know it’s him standing in front of me, I don’t actually want to believe it.