Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 129408 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129408 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
It was far too short as he pulled back, face lazy and happy. That was until he zeroed in on my hand.
Brass knuckles were effective but they left marks. The force of my blow had broken the skin on a couple of fingers, and my hand was a light shade of purple in some places.
He snatched my hand. “What the fuck, Rosie? I thought you were staying home and watching the Golden Goes,” he clipped.
I tried to snatch my hand back. It didn’t work. “It’s the Golden Globes,” I corrected. “Everyone knows that. You’re just pretending you don’t know what it’s called to hide the fact that you secretly watch the reruns and—”
“Rosie,” he warned.
I fluttered my eyelids. “Would you believe me if I told you I tripped?”
His eyes narrowed. “Onto someone else’s face, yeah. Who the fuck have you been fighting with?”
“The mailman,” I lied. “He didn’t deliver my shoes, even though it was overnight shipping.”
“Rosie,” he repeated.
I huffed. “Guess you’re gonna find out anyway. Polly’s moved in.”
His eyes went hard. “What did the fucker do?” It wasn’t surprising that he knew immediately that it had to do with Craig. He was a good judge of character and very protective over Polly.
“You can’t tell anyone,” I said first.
“What?” he seethed.
“Polly doesn’t want people knowing about this.”
He stared at me. “Secrets don’t do well for people, babe. We know this.”
I stared back. “I agree. But her mistakes were her own to make. Just like ours were.”
He scowled at me in response, then gently kissed my hand.
“You’re hurt. That makes it my responsibility,” he murmured.
“I’m not hurt. Battle wounds don’t count,” I countered.
He eyed me. “You’ve got enough of those, Rosie.”
I eyed him back. “You can never have enough.”
He sighed and yanked me into his embrace, and I sank into it, letting the events of the day fully and completely wash over me now that I was safe.
We stayed like that for a long time. Though, forever wouldn’t have been long enough.
“He hit her,” Luke said when he pulled back, still keeping me in his arms.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “How did you know?”
His thumb brushed the edge of my eyelids. “I can see it in your eyes, babe.”
I sighed and pressed my head into his chest.
“You kill him?” Luke asked blandly, kissing my head.
“Polly wouldn’t let me,” I whined.
“You at least fuck him up?”
I nodded against his chest.
He stroked my head.
“We’ll get him,” he promised. “And we’ll take care of her.”
I pulled back. “I know,” I whispered. My hand went down to cup him over his jeans. He let out a harsh breath and his eyes went dark. “But first I need to take care of you. And it seems my hands are injured. Do you think my mouth will suffice?”
My fingers worked at his belt and he grew underneath the denim.
His hand went to my breast, tweaking my nipple. “Oh fuck yes it’ll suffice, babe,” he growled.
Two Weeks Later
“How do you feel after two weeks under quarantine?” I asked Polly, swinging my bags as we meandered down one of my favorite and mostly undiscovered vintage shopping spots in LA.
Polly smiled, pushing her heart-shaped shades to the top of her head. “Feels nice.” Her smile disappeared. “But weird. I think I hate him, maybe. But I still miss him. Am I pathetic?”
I squeezed her hand. “No, babe. You’re human. You’re kind and loving. You don’t let people go from your heart. That’s not pathetic.”
She squeezed back, pushing her shades back onto her face.
“So,” I said. “Heath’s back.” I was going for a casual input into the conversation.
She stopped walking, right in the middle of the street. Some guy on his phone almost collided with her, then muttered insults under his breath.
I flipped him the bird.
Polly didn’t notice him. “He is?” she whispered.
I nodded.
She swallowed visibly.
“Are you sure it’s not him you really miss?” I asked gently.
She tilted her chin up. “I’m not sure about anything anymore.”
I was about to make the most of that statement, to finally get the skinny on her and Heath, but someone decided to shoot at us before I could.
Assholes.
As soon as the blacked-out SUV with no plates screeched out from the corner, I was on guard. Then I saw the back window open and the glint of metal.
I dove on Polly a second before the shooting started.
I heard the first part of her strangled scream, the rest drowned out by the roar of at least one semiautomatic weapon.
It was a lull in the afternoon, which meant the street wasn’t busy, but the people who were around screamed and ran. I covered our heads, hoping people wouldn’t continue to be standing targets for much longer.
A sharp pain erupted in my shoulder, like a bee sting at first that grew more and more intense as the roar of bullets ground my teeth together.