Then You’re Mine (Shame On You #3) Read Online W. Winters, Willow Winters

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Contemporary, Dark, Erotic, New Adult Tags Authors: , Series: Shame On You Series by W. Winters
Series: Shame On You Series by Willow Winters
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Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
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“Do you have someone you love?” I ask him as he stares up at me. Wide-eyed, full of fear. He might be a prick but he’s not dumb.

“He has a wife and kids,” Daniel answers for him, crossing his wrists in front of him, gun still in hand. I look over at Jase and Carter, and Carter nods slightly.

“Tell me yes or no and they’ll be safe. You understand. Either way, you answer, I end this quickly, and make sure no one touches them.”

The poor bastard’s face scrunches as he shakes his head in denial. As if he could wake himself up from this nightmare. But there is no way out of this life. He knows that. He made that choice.

“Nate, he’s your informant?” I swallow thickly as he stares back.

“I’m going to raid your office, your everything, looking for all the evidence and proof. I’m going to find out some way and if your family is there…I’d prefer if you kept them safe by answering me.”

Slowly he shakes his head. “We worked with your waitress, Scarlet. She said there was a guy who had intel and gave it to her. But I never spoke to him. Not once.”

“Are there any other informants?”

“No,” he shakes his head recklessly. “We were here for Nate. His connection was lost and we were told to get him out. That was it. That’s all I know.”

I nod, believing his panicked words as he pushes them out as quickly as he can. He peers up at me with a look in his eyes that tells me he’s praying that I believe him. And I do. I already knew all of that, I just needed to hear it out loud. And Jase needed it recorded, so he can show it to the men, destroy it, and end the rumors.

“I’ll keep my word. No one is going to harm your family, even though you all went after mine. I promise.” He opens his mouth to say something but I put a bullet in it and then another in his skull. He falls backward in a thump and with that, I know this shit is over.

It’s just a matter of cleaning up the scene, washing all this shit off me, and then climbing into bed with my wife.

Braelynn

Seeing my mom at the Cross estate is something else.

My heart beats anxiously, and I can’t stop watching her. Declan and his brothers don’t know her like I do. I hope none of them can tell that her smile is forced and she’s only being polite.

I can hardly keep track of the conversation before dinner. Aria, Carter, and Declan carry the chatter. Aria tries to draw my mom in, but she’s been quiet, mostly just nodding and agreeing. As we take our seats, Aria brings a bottle of wine to the table and pours each of us a glass. Thank God. I desperately need it.

I focus on the wine spilling into the round bottoms of the glasses and breathe deep. It’s always awkward, I remind myself. It would have been awkward at first even if Declan hadn’t been a Cross and he’d asked me on a regular date. I would have been nervous bringing him home no matter what.

“We need a drink to cheers, I think,” Aria says with a smile she gives each of us our glass. Carter and Declan have whiskey already so it’s just the three of us women with prosecco.

The way Carter watches my mother reminds me of how he was when I first came here. He’s a bit more reserved with my mom at the table. It occurs to me that he’s always been guarded. His love for Aria slips out regardless.

He catches my eye, and I anticipate some kind of disappointment with how awkward this all is. Carter smiles instead, a genuine grin that creates a touch of wrinkles around his eyes. He lifts his glass in cheers toward me and I do the same.

Glasses clink and there’s a bit of warmth that touches me. It’s a feeling that’s reminiscent of home.

My mother plays along respectfully but there’s no smile on her face.

“Okay then.” Aria takes her seat last, lifting her hands to indicate all the food on the table. “Let’s eat.”

She’s made a full spread of Italian food. Bruschetta with fresh bread. Meatballs. Caprese salad. Creamy chicken and gnocchi. Handmade tortellini. It looks divine and smells even better.

Aria passes the first dish and smiles at my mother. “I’m hoping there’s something you’ll like here,” she says and then her eyes widen. “Oh! The lasagna.” She jumps up from her seat and brings the last dish back to the table. All the while she’s gone, it’s quiet, apart from the clinking of serving spoons against the porcelain dishes.

“I salvaged it,” Aria states, placing down the pan of homemade lasagna. “The one corner is a little less than perfect.”


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