Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 101001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 505(@200wpm)___ 404(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 505(@200wpm)___ 404(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
“I love you.”
“Fuck, baby, I love you so—”
Her eyes widened, and she yelled, “No!”
Scott’s training took over. In the blink of an eye, he spun around and thrust the knife upward before he even registered Lance behind him with his own smaller but no-less-deadly knife.
His blade slid easily into Lance’s stomach. The man’s mouth dropped open in a silent scream.
Scott grinned.
Fuck, yes.
He twisted the knife and jerked right before releasing it.
The life was already draining from Lance’s eyes.
He’d love to watch it completely die out, but Olivia clung to his back, trembling. So he gave Lance a little shove, sending the man down on his ass.
Liv shook so hard, he didn’t know how she’d walk down the stairs. So he scooped her up in his arms and kissed her. “Let’s go, baby. There’s nothing here for us.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
SHE COULDN’T GET warm.
Ninety degrees under the intense Florida sun, and Olivia was freezing cold. She was so cold she shivered the entire ride from the airport to the Handlers’ compound. She soaked up Scott’s heat as she clung to his back, but even that couldn’t chase the chill away.
No one bothered them or even spoke to them when they returned to the clubhouse. There’d be questions and debriefs. Maybe a lecture because of her impulsive behavior or chastising due to the way she’d run off on her own. Hell, Curly might lose his cool on her for forcing his club to put themselves in danger and at risk of arrest.
Scott had killed a man. To save her. And maybe a little because he just plain wanted to. Liv had no problem with it. Lance had been a monster who’d only have hurt more women if he’d been allowed to live. Had Scott been thirty seconds later, she’d have been raped.
Tears stung her eyes. It’d been so close. Way too close. Terrifyingly close.
She shivered again, but it wasn’t all because of the cold this time.
Curly might not agree with her belief that Lance needed to die. Now he was stuck cleaning up a royal mess that included the dead body of a wealthy man in a public airport. She’d be lucky if he didn’t kick her ass off the compound.
She should ask what the plan was. Check with Scott to ensure everything was being taken care of without risk to anyone in the club. But she was exhausted. Keeping warm and blocking out the feel of Lance’s hands pinning her to the chair had sapped her energy.
Scott rode his bike past the spot he usually parked it and straight to the barn. He killed the engine right outside the entrance, then climbed off the bike. The trembling ramped up the second his hot body disappeared.
“I d-d-don’t know wh-what’s h-happening to m-me.” She shook so hard. If it weren’t for Scott rounding the bike and standing before her, she’d have vibrated right onto the dusty ground. “I’m s-so c-c-cold.”
“Shock, baby.” His mouth was set in a grim line. “Let’s get you inside and under a hot shower.”
That sounded heavenly.
Thankfully, he reached up to unclasp her helmet. Her clumsy hands could never have managed it. As he reached toward her face, she caught one of his hands. “S-scott,” she whispered on an exhale.
His knuckles were a disaster—raw, split, and bleeding. A few had clotted over, but most still oozed. Her heart ached at the thought of him getting hurt because of her.
“Hey,” he whispered. He pulled his hand from hers and removed the helmet. “I’m good, baby. Your ol’ man is a tough motherfucker.”
She sucked in a breath. “Ol’ man?” Did he mean that? He wanted her that way, or was he just saying words?
“If you’ll have me.”
Olivia swallowed a lump the size of a tennis ball in her throat. “Y-yes.” She nodded through her tears.
His eyes flared with heat as he stared down at her. He stroked his thumb over her bruised cheek. She could only imagine how swollen and purple it looked. God, she wanted to kiss him so badly right then, but his hands weren’t the only part of him covered in blood. It had splattered all over his shirt and even on his face.
Mostly Lance’s.
She wore his blood as well, all over her shirt from where he’d spit on her. They needed a shower, and they needed it an hour ago.
No more words were spoken as he scooped her up off the bike and cradled her against his muscular chest. She relaxed in his capable arms, letting him carry her up to his apartment. After locking the door behind him, he walked straight into the bathroom and then set her feet down on the floor.
“Steady?” he asked.
She nodded, still shivering. The chill from the air conditioner did nothing to stop her chattering teeth.
Scott didn’t say anything. No empty platitudes or promises that it would all be okay. He didn’t tell her not to worry or be upset, but he did reach into the shower and flip the water to hot.