Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 141281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
He’ll do anything to make sure I’m not an embarrassment to his family brand.
Hell, maybe he’d even give his own daughter permission to turn my crank before I find out she’s severely off-limits.
Stomping toward the big entryway, I wish I hadn’t had that second beer.
Ever since that raid on St. John and its horrors, I’ve been laying off booze and bad habits. Even the lightest stuff drags me down like an anchor.
Shit.
By the time I’m climbing in my truck, I realize I’m too buzzed to drive and I hate it.
I need to crash for a few hours—hopefully without anyone realizing I’m still here.
I find the nearest servant and break my dry streak, asking him to bring me a whiskey and a couple bottles of water.
He promptly brings me a glass of amber liquid over ice and a few mineral waters while I wait by the tall staircase. Then I head to my room, kick the door shut, and flop down on the bed.
I’m supposed to be getting some R & R this week before the big briefing with senior leadership. With Joaquin and his men escaping that mansion and fleeing beyond US jurisdiction, there’s a lot of unfinished business.
He didn’t get to head up the largest trafficking syndicate south of California by sitting around with his thumb up his ass, either. He’ll want to get back in the game and undo the damage we did to his business ASAP.
And with his partner Jordan out of the picture, there’s nothing holding him back from more brutal strategies.
I punch the mattress, hating that I couldn’t fucking end this then and there. But I had to save that girl before she bled out in front of my eyes.
Goddamn it.
And goddamn the clueless, selfish cockroaches in this house. None of them—including little miss brattypants—will ever understand why I can’t up and quit.
How the hell could I when I’ve seen the consequences of hanging up my sword?
How could I live with myself if I just walk away and let evil win?
I know how heavy and self-righteous that sounds, and I don’t care.
If I can’t deal with the bullshit without resorting to theatrics, then I’ll drink till I’m too numb to be a pissed off bargain philosopher.
Until I can’t think about the shit Ma said about my dead dad.
Much less the brown-eyed succubus I’ll have sharing a wall if I linger here too long.
I felt the heat in Delia’s thigh when I teased her.
I wish I didn’t.
There’s no mistaking that warmth.
I know a woman’s body better than I know tactical drills.
Unfortunately, there’s a lot I’ve found out tonight, too.
For one, my mother hasn’t changed a damn bit, and her new hubby’s exactly the weak, starstruck simp enabler I expected.
Delia’s the only mystery I still care to explore, and unraveling her is officially impossible.
Sinking into the huge Victorian bed, I sling the fiery booze down my throat in a quick swallow. It burns all the way to my balls.
If only I could talk some sense into my cock.
We’re not doing this, you greedy fuck. You can’t have her.
Not anymore.
But the flesh knows what it wants, and it doesn’t speak logic.
Lust doesn’t comprehend boundaries or taboos or appalling contradictions.
I’m lucky I’m disciplined enough to avoid slipping up and doing something monumentally stupid. But now that she’s technically family, how the hell do I ignore her?
There’s no telling how long this joke of a marriage will last, or when I’ll be forced to come rushing back here because Ma winds up in the hospital or worse.
How do I just up and pretend my stepsister doesn’t burn me to ashes with every glance?
Fuck.
I decide then and there that as long as I’m stuck in this unexpected hell, I might as well have some fun. Humor never failed to help lighten the load.
Plus, a diabolical part of me enjoyed messing with her head tonight.
With the longest summer of my life in full swing, what if Miss Delia helps me blow off some steam?
If I can’t have her mounted to my dick, the least I can do is know her.
And if my teasing and jokes go to her head—if she winds up loathing every molecule of air I breathe—so be it.
At least she’ll remember me like no other man.
And I wish a mangled part of my soul didn’t want that so badly—but I learned to stop wishing for miracles a long fucking time ago.
5
Blue Lightning (Delia)
I’m lying in bed chasing distractions, flipping through my phone, sucking at silly choose-your-own-adventure story games and texting friends I haven’t talked to in months.
What else can I do after that train wreck of a dinner besides try to date a handsome vampire?
Only, my character wears the wrong dress to Hot Dracula’s club and he picks another girl.
Ugh.
...these games aren’t supposed to hit so close to real life.