Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 112755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
She screamed so loud, her voice rang in his ears. He crushed the cigarette in the ashtray, jumped out of the bed, and grabbed her—trying to hold her, stop her from leaving. She struggled in his embrace, fighting him, trying to wiggle free, but he wouldn’t let her. He held her to him, forcing her to settle down. Resting her head against his chest, her face turned away from him, she inhaled deeply, then exhaled, as if she’d been running a marathon.
“It’s not you, baby. I’ve had a lot on my mind. I shouldn’t have shut you out. I’m used to handling things on my own. I fucked up… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby.” He rocked her, kissed the top of her head. Squeezed her. “And I don’t have another girl. I only have you. I only want you. You’re more than enough.”
They stood there for a long while, swaying slowly to the sounds of Gesaffelstein & The Weeknd’s ‘Lost in the Fire.’ Finally, he took her hand and led her across the room—to his closet. She stood there, looking confused, with her deep-set, heavy-lidded almond shaped eyes. Long, thick lashes. High cheekbones. Impeccable bone structure. Healthy, thick hair. Soft, lovely lips. Big breasts with juicy, dark nipples. Wide hips. Long, curvy legs. A nice, high, round behind. Skin softer than butter…
She was mentally and emotionally naked. Vulnerable. Beautiful in her birthday suit. A swell of bitter acid rushed from his gut to his throat as he yanked the closet door open, and turned on the light. Exposing himself, too…
She took a step forward, then another. Releasing his hand, she looked around, her gaze traveling from left to right, up and down. Her fingers dragged along the taped photos. The countless handwritten notes. Maps with circled addresses. Violent rantings. Prayer candles. And her eyes watered. Would she understand? Would she know what she was seeing? He had no idea… but he was about to find out…
Chapter Fifteen
It was like an alter…
Ego.
An altar…
For the Devil’s son.
There were assorted half melted candles, handwritten summaries written in English and Spanish. Red ink. Scribbles. Angry, dark lines. Maps with circles and green push pins. Three old photographs were spread about the display. Three men. The one in the middle had his eyes scratched out. Something was drawn around his neck, perhaps a noose of sorts. The one on the left had a bullet sticker on his forehead. The one on the right had a knife in his eye. A real one. A small paring knife was sticking out of the picture, as if someone had jammed it in there with all the force they could muster. A sick game of darts.
Chills went up and down Desiree’s form as she took in the display, while Bobby Caldwell sang, ‘What You Won’t Do For Love.’ A part of her was terrified. The truth stood there naked—dripping with insanity, but not a drop of remorse. There was no mystery here. Legend was plotting to kill these men.
He was on a twisted mission.
And from the looks of things, he’d been planning it for quite some time.
She heard the floor creek, and spun to look behind her, her heart beating in her ears, her palms clammy. He’d sat on the bed, head down, arms folded across his lap. Defeated, and yet, still strong. Naked—in more ways than one.
I can scream. I can pretend everything is cool and walk out of here knowin’ damn well I ain’t gonna speak to him again. I could take my chances, call the police, and tell them what I saw. Or I could ask him what I already know, but help him in the process.
I met this man for a reason.
I’ve hopelessly fallen in love with this man.
This man scares me.
This man scares himself, too. This man is hurtin’.
This man is mine…
This matter would have to be handled with caution or there’d be dire consequences. She, too, was naked, but her nudity felt okay. She’d lived with it for a while. She’d paraded it around. She’d lain with it, became it, and sported it like a flag. She’d accepted it, and healed—dealt with her nudity, her scars, her scabs. No Band-Aids. No pain killers.
“I’m not going to ask you why you plannin’ to do somethin’ to these men. We both already know why, and you know that I know, or I wouldn’t be standin’ here right now.”
He stayed still, like a statue, never looking up.
“I’m going to ask you a question though. Actually, I’ve got a lot of questions. Will you answer them?” We’ve got work to do.
Legend scratched his temple, then slowly lifted his head, showing her the shadows in his beautiful eyes. She beheld in them a sorrow and pain like no other.
“Yeah…” was all he offered in a hoarse, rumbling voice.