Texting My Guardian Angel Read Online Flora Ferrari

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Insta-Love Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
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“Now I can see it so clearly. It was all for a reason. You can help me, Dad, with your new friends. Look at that car. That’s just… That’s more than a pension, Dad. That’s more than a mortgage. A man with a car like that. You can help me, right?”

“Oh, P-Paul,” Eli wails, squeezing my arm as he tries to push past. “My son, my baby boy.”

“Let him come to me,” Paul says.

“Lower your hands from your pocket, shrug your jacket off, then step away with your hands up.”

Paul smirks, a flash of the predator through the tears. Is he faking this or exaggerating it? It’s hard to tell if it’s a knife or a gun based on the outline of the leather. It’s too thick. “You sound paranoid.”

“You must be high,” I say. “You can hear the sirens now, can’t you? I’ve got my dog. You killed my woman’s father.”

I can’t stop. Katy gasps from beside me. I’m supposed to be in control in situations like these, high pressure, possibly involving guns. Then I picture thirteen-year-old Katy staring out the car window at this man who stabbed her dad in the street. And for what? The little change he had? The sheer violence of it?

“She’s my fucking woman,” I roar, pounding my hand against my chest. Jackal barks loudly, deeply, like thunder. “She belongs to me, and you killed her father!” I pound my chest even harder, feeling the veins push against my neck. “Put your hand down, now.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Paul says.

“You have two seconds.”

“Don’t be…” Paul yells, snatches his hand into his pocket, and pulls out the pistol. It’s a Glock, but even that’s too much gun for him. He fumbles the draw.

It doesn’t matter. He would never be fast enough. With a wave of my hand, Jackal has closed the distance. He’s got his jaw wrapped around the gun hand a moment later, ragdolling Paul as he sends him to the ground. Katy moves behind me. I’m not sure where she’s going, except that I need to kill this man, end the man who did that to my woman.

I click my tongue and scratch my neck. Jackal looks up at me with wide, excited eyes, then efficiently transfers his grip from Paul’s forearm to his throat. Paul lies still, glaring up at me, the tears gone. Jackal is rumbling as Paul’s eyes slowly turn from hate to primal terror.

“Puh-please,” he says.

“Explain what happened with her father,” I snarl.

“Oh, God.” He pisses himself. “Oh, Jesus.”

“Explain.” My voice echoes louder than the approaching sirens.

Behind me, Katy’s voice raises. “Eli, just sit down. It’s okay. Oh, Eli.”

But I can’t turn. I can’t think about anything except this bizarre twist in fate.

“I wanted his chain. He didn’t give it to me. I was high.”

“So it’s as simple as that.”

“It’s always simple as that, brother.”

“I’m not your fucking brother.” I pull my foot back, aiming it at his hip, but it’s hard to kick a man when he’s down, even if he deserves it. Jackal has no qualms about that. “I could let my boy tear you to pieces. He knows how important Katy is. He knows how important what we have is. He sensed it when he saw her. Dogs always know, Paul.”

Jackal must be tightening his grip. A drop of blood slides down Paul’s neck. He makes a choking noise.

“If there were no law, I’d let him tear your throat out. I’d do it in front of your poor father, who you don’t deserve. You’re only breathing because they’d put me in a cage and Jackal in the dirt. Remember that.”

I glance over my shoulder. Katy has her hand on Eli’s arm. He breathes steadily, weeping, and Katy shoots me a look. Her eyes are soft and flooded with emotion, the reveal of her dad’s killer and everything I said. I called her my woman. There’s no doubting it now.

“Puh-puh…” Paul is wheezing. “Puh-puh…”

“Jackal.” I click my tongue. He looks up at me and growls. “Off, boy. Now.”

He grunts and backs up, keeping his eyes on Paul.

“Done,” I say, and Jackal sits, grumbling. “Give him your jacket, Paul.”

“Wh-what?”

I lean down, scooping up the gun, unloading the magazine, and clearing the chamber. “Give him your fucking jacket.”

Paul sits up, wincing as he slowly takes off his jacket. One of his hands hangs limply. “Just throw it at him?”

“That wouldn’t be very polite, would it? Go.”

Paul yells in terror as Jackal leaps forward and tears the jacket from his grip. He goes into a frenzy, all his energy built up, shaking the jacket violently and then trapping it in his paws so he can tear massive chunks in it. He spits them out and keeps working. Paul stares. The puddle in his lap is growing.

The sirens are getting louder. I can feel Katy watching me still. I kneel next to Paul and place my hand on his shoulder. “When they take you to the station, you’re going to confess to the murder of Katy’s father.”


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