Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
“Whoa!” Logan stumbles back, his hands coming up in defense.
But as I’m about to claim my final prey and shred him, the sound of the elevator reminds me of the more imminent threat. The police.
Fuck!
I look at Logan, my lips twisting. “If one hair on her head is damaged before I make it back to her, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”
“She’s my little girl. You think I’d let anyone hurt her?”
His words stand for shit, but I haven’t got time to fuck about. “Your daughter is still in danger and you know it. You haven’t been telling me everything and I’m going to find out why.”
The elevator doors rattle.
“You’re going to wish you’d never met me, Logan.” I break into a sprint and head for the only window that opens in my entire apartment.
* * *
So now I’m a wanted man, on the run from the fucking police.
Worse, I have no idea where Camille is. Her fucking phone is turned off, or it’s been taken from her. If her father thinks I’ll just go away, he’s so wrong. I won’t rest until I find out what the fuck is going on.
I go to the only place I have to go, and she’d best not give me a hard time about it. Lucinda throws the door open, her tiny frame encased in an oversized dressing gown and her petite face riddled with disdain. I push my way past her, ignoring it.
“Come right in,” she says, condescending as hell.
I stomp over to her drinks cabinet and pour myself a healthy helping of Jack. “You led them to me. Quit your whining.” I knock back my drink, praying for some calm in my shaking world.
“You let him take her?” The door slams and she joins me by the cabinet, placing a glass in front of me in an indication to pour.
“I didn’t let him take her,” I snarl. “The depraved prick paid her scumbag ex to press charges against me.” I leave her glass empty and pour myself one more. Just one more. “The police turned up. I ran.” I stalk away, this time sipping my drink as opposed to downing it, and put myself in front of her window.
“I’m sorry,” Lucinda says, perplexed. “You’ve lost me. He paid her ex to press charges? For what?”
“The picture in the magazine,” I breathe. “I was getting her away from her ex. I gave him a pair of black eyes. And probably broke his nose. And I might have stripped him of the ability to reproduce.” I’ve done the world a fucking favor. I should get an award, not a sentence.
“You did what?” she yells, showing rare shock.
“Don’t even.” I turn and lift a finger to point at her. “He cornered her in the ladies’ and hit her before tossing her to the ground like a piece of rubbish.”
Lucinda wisely backs down, reaching for the hard stuff and pouring one for herself. “You know, none of this would have happened if you hadn’t gotten emotionally involved. It’s rule number one. And you’re you, for crying out loud! Women love you for as long as it takes them to make you come. Then you piss them off and they hate you! What the fuck has changed?”
“Camille Logan,” I breathe, letting my head fall back, my eyes searching for the heavens and a God I don’t believe in. Someone needs to help me out. Lucinda’s right. Emotion hasn’t featured in my makeup for a long, long time. I can’t blame her for being shocked. I’m Jake Sharp, for fuck’s sake! Arsehole extraordinaire! I don’t love, I screw.
My thoughts grind to a screeching halt and I physically recoil. Lucinda frowns at my sudden, unprovoked jerk, watching me as I rewind through my thoughts. When I find what I’m looking for, I double over and nearly throw up. Love? Camille Logan has a habit of reducing me to a pussy, and she’s done it again.
Love.
Fucking love? Where the fuck did that come from? I start laughing in my bent position, while trying desperately to locate a logical reason for me using such a stupid word. I love her hair. I love her eyes. I love how she looks when she’s lost in her thoughts. I love how strong, determined, and passionate she is. I love…
My amusement gets dowsed by more heaving.
I fucking love her.
“Jake?” Lucinda’s hand rests on my shoulder, sending high-voltage electric shocks though my bloodstream. I straighten and jump back, away from her. There’s alarm on her face and her hand hovers in midair where my shoulder was a moment ago. “You okay?”
“Fuck.” I curse and slam my palms into the side of the drinks cabinet, dipping my head and fighting with my chaotic mind, trying to force it to straighten out.
You love her.
I feel so fucking stupid. And like I’m going mad. I love her—so fucking much—it’s the only reason there is to explain the tatters my heart is in right now. I’m panicking, scared that I’m going to lose her.