Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 147891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!” Caz shouts.
“I—I don’t know!” I shout back.
Garrett’s car door pops open, and his body falls out of the car. He hits the ground with a hard oomph, and Caz swings his eyes to him, immediately drawing his gun.
“Caz, wait!” I call, but I know it’s too late.
“Oi! You fucking asshole!” Caz barks, stomping toward him. “What the fuck are you doing, eh?! You just hit our car!”
Caz snatches Garrett off the ground and slams his back against the side of the car. Garrett cries out in pain. “Oi, did you hear me? You just hit our car,” Caz snarls in his face.
“Fuck you,” Garrett spits, breathing raggedly. Blood drips from his forehead and the bridge of his nose.
I cup my mouth, unsure what to do. This was not supposed to happen. Why didn’t Garrett just stay away?
Caz looks Garrett all over as if finding him familiar. “Willow?” he calls. “Is this Garrett?” His icy eyes never leave him.
Reluctantly, I say, “Yes. That’s him.”
Within the blink of an eye, Caz has his gun pointed at Garrett’s temple. “You’re the fucker who put his hands on her.”
“Caz,” I murmur, stepping forward. “Please. You can’t. You promised me.”
Caz doesn’t look at me, but he hears me. I know he does because his jaw is pulsing. He’s showing massive restraint right now.
“What are you gonna do?” Garrett taunts, sneering.
“Garrett, I would advise you to shut up, right now,” I say.
“That bitch’ll just use you and ditch you like she did to me,” Garrett hisses at him, completely ignoring me. “You aren’t special, you white bastard.”
Caz’s right eye twitches. Or maybe both eyes do. I can’t tell from only seeing his profile, but in millisecond, Caz brings the gun down swiftly to whack Garrett on top of the head with it.
Chapter 22
CAZ
Garrett Fucker’s body crumples to the ground, and I feel immediate satisfaction. I swear, I wasn’t going to hurt him…not yet. But he called her a bitch then topped it off by calling me a bastard. Yeah, fuck that and fuck him.
It’s almost comical, really. This skinny little shit thinking he’s badass. But he isn’t. He has no idea who he’s dealing with, and I don’t give a fuck what world we’re in, he’ll fucking learn a lesson or two on manners.
“Open your trunk.”
“What?” Willow asks, breathless.
“Open it, Willow. Now.”
She breathes unevenly, rushing to the trunk and popping it open. I drag his body to the trunk and toss him inside, not caring that his head hits a corner.
“Caz, what are you doing?” she hisses.
I slam the trunk closed. “Let’s go.”
“Caz, we can’t take him! Are you crazy?”
“Do you want me to drive?”
“Caz!”
I ignore her, heading to the driver’s side. “Just show me the way back to your apartment. I’ll set him free there.”
“No, you won’t,” she says matter-of-factly when she’s in the passenger seat, buckling her seatbelt. “His car is still out here. Someone will wonder whose it is since it’s crashed. They’ll ID it.”
I don’t say anything to that. Instead, I say, “Which way to your apartment?”
She tells me where to go, but not without ranting about how this is wrong and how we should let him go before reaching her apartment.
I’ve lost my temper, and I know it. All I want to do right now is wake his ass up out of whatever fainting spell he’s under just to knock his fucking lights out again.
And I’m not lying to Willow. I will let him go…just not so soon.
When we reach her place, she climbs out of the car and says, “Open the trunk. We have to let him go, Caz. We seriously don’t have time for this.”
She slams her door closed and hurries toward the trunk, but as she reaches to open it, I press on the gas and drive off, taking the fucker with me.
Chapter 23
WILLOW
It takes me a moment to remember this is my life now. Yes, I’m back in my world, but that doesn’t mean all has returned to normalcy.
The events that are happening right now are very real, and no, I’m not in Vakeeli where it’s okay to be violent, or where all of it can be swept under the rug. I’m in my world, where there are police, the FBI, and even the damn army. There are authorities here, cameras on every block, and he’s making this unbelievably hard for me right now.
“DAMN IT!” I scream in the middle of the parking lot, just as a man steps out of his car with takeout. He eyes me awkwardly, scurrying toward his building. Under any other circumstance, I would be completely embarrassed, but I’m too angry to be embarrassed right now.
“Okay. Okay. Think,” I breathe. I snatch my phone out of my back pocket. I’m glad I grabbed it beforehand. I can’t get into my apartment because both keys are now in my purse, and my purse is inside the car. And I can’t call him and make him come back because he doesn’t have a damn phone. That telepathic bond would really come in handy right now.