Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
He had a hell of a lot more screens to keep track of, though.
A text came through. It was the most beautiful sound in the world. I took my first deep breath in an hour when I read it.
Hold tight, I have something. Give me five.
I closed my eyes and nodded slightly to myself. Then I did what I had been doing for days. I opened her file, but this time it was the digital version. I scrolled through pictures and lists until I got to the section of her schoolwork and report cards. She was an excellent student, not surprising. What did surprise me where the wide range of talents she had.
Her artwork was surprisingly good, even at a young age. She was an avid gardener, swimmer, and horsewoman. But it was the creative writing she had done that really knocked me to my knees.
I settled in to read the short stories she had written for the dozenth time. They had kept me entertained on the flight over. Not just entertained. Enthralled.
She was talented and well spoken, but it was more than that. It was the way she saw the world. Her imagination was whimsical and sweet, but simple. She was clever. Witty, to the extreme. They had style and flair, even if the story was about talking bunny rabbits or woodland creatures, as many of them were.
The stories were innocent enough to be read to children, but complex enough to entertain an adult. Anyone would enjoy them. Even someone lacking in appreciation for the fine arts and culture.
An outlaw who smelled like motor oil, for example.
Her stories had taken me out of simply wanting to protect or possess her. They had made me want to slip into the world she had created with her. They had made me fall right the fuck in love with her, as much as I fought thinking the words, I knew it was true.
The girl owned my goddamned heart, whatever that was worth.
I just hoped like hell she wasn’t disgusted by the tatted up biker who showed up like a knight in shining armor. I knew I was pretty. Girls had never been an issue. But this girl was something else. She was on a level that I’d never encountered before, let alone tried to woo.
Hell, I’d never had to woo anyone. Girls just fell into my lap. I had plans for that though, if and when I actually got my hands on her.
None of that even mattered if I couldn’t find her. If I couldn’t keep her safe. I had ideas of how to do that, too. It was my job after all. I had volunteered to protect her from now on, whether she liked it or not.
I just had to chase her down first.
Thankfully my phone pinged before my blood pressure got too high.
Got her. Doesn’t look good, man.
I stared at my phone as a series of images stolen from public cameras came through. Anastasia climbing down the fire escape at the back of the building. Anastasia running, maybe with a limp. Anastasia disappearing into an area of the city that was very lightly populated in the dead of night.
The look on her face in the one shot that showed it felt like a knife to the gut. She was terrified. Someone had scared her and I wanted to kill them for it. I wanted to kill them slowly.
Where the fuck is she?
Her trail goes cold. But I found this. Only a handful of places to stay in that area that wouldn’t ask for ID. Sending a list.
An image came through of her walking down the street. Her jeans were ripped. I couldn’t see her eyes because of the baseball cap and sunglasses. But I knew what I would see if I could. She was all alone in the world and she knew it.
“Not for fucking long,” I hissed under my breath as I hustled to the rental car I’d been practically living in since I got to LA. I had a place secured up the coast for when I found her. But I had only dropped off supplies and taken a shower. I had not slept for more than an hour or two at a time since I got off that plane.
And I would not rest until I had her under lock and key.
CHAPTER SIX
Anastasia
I tilted my head, considering the bathroom. I was looking for weak spots in the extremely lax security of the motel I had ended up in. The window was painted shut. That was good and bad. Good because no one could get in that way, bad because if I needed to run, I only had the front door to do it from.
I swallowed, then looked at my face in the mirror. I was dirty, sore, exhausted, and scared. But for now, I was safe.