Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 72122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
He scratched his head with the lip of the whiskey bottle, and then leaned forward abruptly.
“And why does your dad call you a killer?” I asked, confused.
“Because I am.”
“How does he know that you are?”
“Because I told him. One day I needed to unload, and he was convenient. But, he didn’t make me feel better…only worse.” He cleared his throat. “My words, and actions ruined our relationship, and I’ll never have that back.”
I felt terrible for him.
“What happened next?”
“I hunted Elais Beckett down,” he said. “Hooked up with a man named Raphael that I knew from my SEAL days. He pulled some strings, and we got Beckett charged, tried and sent to prison after catching him red-handed pocketing ransom money from a rescue and recovery op that I actually think he orchestrated in the first place.”
Okay…
“Truth…”
He held up his hand. “Let me finish.”
I fell silent and waited for him to continue, which took a very long time.
“Elais Beckett made a vow to me the day I went to visit him in prison,” he moaned and leaned forward, letting his head hang. “Should’ve fucking known that he’d get out. He should’ve been denied parole. He was the last two times he came up for release. Unfortunately, the only crime he was charged with was racketeering, and he got twelve years for it. He’s served six of it, and the parole board obviously thought that was enough this time and let him go. Something that the detectives on his case failed to mention to me.”
I frowned. “They don’t normally ‘forget’ to do that, do they?”
His head came up.
“No.”
The way he said it made my gut clench.
“What happened to them?”
“Dead.” He looked me straight in the eyes. “Just like my grandparents.”
Nausea boiled in my belly.
“He killed your grandparents.”
One nod.
“And you think he’s going to come after you, next,” I assumed.
Another nod.
Another swig of the whiskey.
“And getting drunk is going to help you fend him off if he is coming?”
His jaw clenched, and he scratched the back of his neck.
“I’m a depressed mother fucker. Give me a goddamned break,” he snapped, eyes flaring hotly with anger.
I held up my hands and stood from the arm of the couch.
The first thing I did was clear the table of the empty beer bottles and trash from his food over the past week.
“Gross,” I said, holding up a piece of stale pizza.
He shrugged.
“I’m out of trash bags.”
He was. I found that out almost immediately.
He did, however, have eight million, three hundred, and forty-seven Wal-Mart sacks stuffed into an old Dr. Pepper twenty-four pack box, so I started filling them up with the trash I could find around the house.
I didn’t stop until I had eighteen bags filled.
“Jesus Christ, you’re a slob,” I told him, indicating the pile.
He set the bottle down with a clank, and stood.
His impressive height towered over me, but I wouldn’t be intimidated.
Not this time. Not with this man.
“You need to get the fuck out of my house,” he snapped. “Now, before I make you get out.”
I knew for a fact he wasn’t going to make me do anything. He wasn’t that type of man.
But he would say stuff to purposely hurt me to get me to leave. And I had to keep him from doing that right then, so I shut him up with my mouth.
One second I was standing in front of him, and the next I launched myself at him.
He was either going to drop me or catch me.
Thankfully, he chose to catch me.
I was glad he did because otherwise I would’ve hit the floor hard with how high I’d jumped.
He grunted as my body hit his.
Curving his arm underneath my ass, he pulled me close to him, and slammed his mouth down onto mine.
One deep, long, wet kiss that showed both of our frustration over the situation.
His anger paired with my annoyance was enough to shoot that kiss to the next level.
I’d never, not ever, had angry sex before, but the second Truth shoved his hand up under my dress (yes, I’d planned this out incredibly well) and ripped my panties free from my body, I knew I was about to experience what angry sex was all about.
And I was right.
It was better than anything I’d ever experienced before in my life.
Emotions were heightened, making everything more forceful, more powerful, full of more feelings, just more everything.
His hand under my dress immediately honed in on where I was wet for him, and he teased my clit once before circling his large finger around my entrance.
“You should leave,” he grated out.
I grabbed a hold of his beard roughly and pulled his mouth back down to mine.
Tomorrow I would have a beard burn.
Tomorrow I’d be sore.
Tomorrow I would deal with that, but right now I just didn’t give a damn.
Truth was mine, and I was his, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it.