Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 103124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
But it’s the only way out of this dead end.
I start to backtrack, but as I round the corner, I bump into a wall of muscle. It’s a man. A big man. Bald with tattoos crawling up his neck.
“Whoa there, little lady. Leaving so soon?”
He grabs me with his big meaty hands as I try to walk past him. I attempt to yank myself free, but he’s got a good hundred pounds on me, and it’s like trying to shake off the Terminator.
“Get your hands off me,” I demand.
“Why you in such a hurry, baby?” He has bad breath and an accent I can’t place. “You ain’t got no time for me?”
Again, I try to yank myself free. “I said let me go.”
“I don’t think so.” He forces me against the damp brick wall and presses his nose into my cheek. “See, I saw you run down here, and I thought to myself, why not sample a taste of that fine piece of pussy?”
“You try tasting anything, and I’m going to make sure you never taste anything again.”
He laughs, and the stench of his breath makes me want to gag. “Oh, you is fiesty. I like it when they fight.”
“Yeah, but do you like it when they do this—” I twist my body and drop an elbow into his forearm, then thrust it upward into his face, cracking his nose. It’s enough for him to release me and for me to take off like a lightning bolt. But for a big fucker, he’s fast, and with a lunge, he grabs me around the neck and yanks me backward. I lose my footing, and he shoves me against the damp brick wall again.
I slam my knee into his groin, and his grip on me loosens again but only for a moment. I try to flee, but he shoves me back and forces his forearm under my chin, cutting off my air supply. “Fucking bitch, just for that, I’m going to make this hurt extra bad.”
He forces me higher so my feet are just off the ground. I fight him. But I don’t have anything solid beneath my feet, just air. I try to plant my feet against the bricks, but they keep slipping. Stars begin to dance before my eyes.
His grip on me suddenly loosens, and my feet hit the ground with a thud that rattles my bones. I’m only vaguely aware of the blood and brain matter spattering across my cheek as the man falls to the ground. Very dead.
Nico stands over him and fires another three rounds into his chest. His rage ice cold.
Slowly, he turns to look back at me.
“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
The danger in his growly voice sends a tremor through me. I shake my head.
Headlights appear at the end of the alley. Nico eats up the space between us and grabs me by the elbow to hustle me toward the limo. I’m in shock. I don’t resist. Or speak. I cast a look over my shoulder at the dead man lying on the ground. Twilight stretches across the sky in shades of indigo.
Still shaking, I climb into the limo, and Nico slides in beside me. He taps on the glass partition, and we start moving. He pulls out his phone, and whoever is on the line answers almost immediately.
“We need a cleanup.” He issues our location and some vague details with a cold detachment I’m sure only psychopaths can pull off. “Deal with it and let me know when it’s done.”
When he hangs up, I stare at the man I am due to marry in mere days, and another wave of unease washes over me as his heated gaze bores into me.
“You killed him,” I say shakily.
He removes a handkerchief from his jacket pocket.
“I will kill any man who dares to put his hands on you. Nobody touches what is mine.” He leans forward and hands me the handkerchief to wipe the blood off my face. “You would do well to remember that.”
22
Nico
She doesn’t talk during the ride home. She sits in the corner and stares out of the window, her face tight, her eyes wet, while I sit across from her, my jaw tense and my mood dark.
If she is to survive this, she needs to understand that putting herself in harm’s way will result in some consequence. Either she’ll get hurt, or someone will die trying to hurt her. It’s the way of my world, and she’s a part of it whether she likes it or not.
I glance at her, and a minuscule piece of my anger thaws when I see the lone tear slide down her smooth cheek. Christ, doesn’t she know what would’ve happened if I hadn’t found her?
But then, the quiver in her chin tells me that perhaps she does.