Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
I won’t stop her. I kept my end of the bargain with Kirill. I told him Ghost’s plans. It might have only been thirty minutes before showtime, but I still narked.
“Now, Little Lamb!” Ghost demands when Katie remains frozen at my side, his voice booming over the endless gunfire.
When he spots her nimble headshake, he cusses before yelling, “Get her in the fucking car.”
The desperation in his voice has me realizing how foolish I’ve been. Kirill can’t be trusted, so why the fuck did I ever think siding with him was my only option. Ghost would have burned down all of Kronstadt with me to find Anastasia, but I’ve fucked up that chance now because all I kept thinking is that I couldn’t lose her and my unborn child again.
I barely survived their loss the first time. I got so fucking strung out on drugs, Ghost found me OD’ing in my car. I had a needle hanging out of my arm and froth from my mouth, yet he still resuscitated me like our dicks weren’t forever a minimum of three feet apart when we shared a girl.
There are no fucking sword fights in our stories.
I only just get Katie into the opening when I realize my awakening has occurred too late. Bobrov men flood the shipping yard from every exit and entry point. Unlike Kirill’s men guarding Katie’s arrival, these men are dressed for action. AK47s are strapped to their chests, and Kirill would never attend a party without his favorite ammunition—body-maiming grenades.
“Get her onto the boat,” Kirill orders me like I’m one of his fucking lackies.
My vision is hindered by Watermelon Head tossing Katie onto his shoulder and sprinting on to the boat, but when Kirill mutters, “At the stacks in ten,” no amount of camouflage will have me missing the confused crinkle between Ghost’s brows.
My ruse is busted, but I’m too fucking desperate to get to Ana to explain myself.
Kirill arrived empty-handed, so where the fuck is the girl I’d go to the end of hell for?
30
ANASTASIA
“Get the fuck off me!” I kick out like I have many times since Stace and the goon Alek calls Watermelon Head ambushed me in my room.
Alek sent me a message not to leave. He never said anything about not opening the door. I thought the brisk knock was Vera arriving with some nausea-friendly foods. My thumbs-up reply was a clear indication I was battling through a severe bout of morning sickness that I suspect was brought on by Stace’s hint that the fall that ripped my daughter from my womb wasn’t an accident. I was desperate to seek answers, but that couldn’t be done until I could leave the bathroom without fear of vomiting on someone’s shoes.
Watermelon Head didn’t even try to pretend he was there for any other reason but to kidnap me. He directed his big gun at my head, its size so substantial it needed two hands to control.
That was his first mistake.
His showy gun left his groin unprotected.
When he dropped to the floor, howling like a baby, I tried to make a break for it. I got halfway out the door when Stace grabbed a fistful of my hair. She yanked me back like Kirill did last night when I tried to sprint for Alek, and although being hit in the groin is painful no matter your sex, it didn’t take her down long enough for Watermelon Head not to recover.
He knocked me out with the butt of his gun. I woke up in the laundry room of Alek’s apartment building, dangling above a rickety chair with rope curled around my throat.
“I said don’t fucking touch me.” My shoeless foot lands harshly on the goon’s nose, pushing him back a couple of paces, but the blood gushing from his nose only doubles his determination.
“I don’t know what I want to do first. Hold you down and watch as the wish to live slowly fades from your eyes, or wait until you’re so floppy and lifeless, you’ll do nothing but stay motionless like a good little pet while I fill you with my dick.”
His head snaps to the side when I spit in his face. “Fill would imply you have enough length for penetration. We all know that isn’t the case.”
As he drags his hand down his cheek, his eyes shoot daggers at the men who couldn’t hold back their chuckles. Once he shuts them up enough, only the heaving of their lungs as they battle to control their laughter is heard, he shifts his focus back to me. “I might just do both.”
“You’ll be dead before then. All of you will be dead.”
Before I can speak another word, I’m yanked across the sea-corroded floor by the rope around my ankle and forced to use my hearing to respond more than my vision since they shove a hessian bag over my head.