Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 87961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
You fuck with me, I’ll kill you, because no one takes anything as serious as death.
Euan smiles wide when he opens the door and sees me. “Hey.”
I flash him a smile. “Hey.”
He leans in and places a lingering kiss on my cheek before opening the door wider to usher me in.
“Let me take your coat.” He moves behind me and eases my coat from my shoulders, ever the gentleman.
“Something smells good,” I remark.
He flashes me that blinding smile of his. “I’d love to say I cooked, but you know me...I ordered takeout.”
I shrug. “Takeout is good.”
I just need to eat before my next shift...which will actually end up being a twenty-hour shift, and it starts in two hours.
Another wide grin. “I ordered Thai, your favourite.”
We sit down to eat and Euan seems oddly quiet. Usually he has a lot to say, whether it’s talking about work, or my horrible living conditions—which he thinks are abhorrent. He usually brings up my flat because that conversation always leads to him trying to get me to move in with him, which leads to me explaining why I don’t want to move in with him.
Tonight though, he’s quiet, distant almost.
“Are you alright?” I ask.
He smiles slightly and nods as he chews a mouthful of food. “Of course.”
I chalk his lack of conversation up to the fact that he’s just got off shift. God knows I’m a miserable bitch when I’ve just done a long shift. I guess he’s allowed to feel it once in a while as well.
Taking a quick sip of my water, I ask, “What did you do today?”
As predicted, he launches into a detailed account of a triple bypass he scrubbed in on earlier. I don’t know whether it’s kind of sad or that our main topic of conversation is work.
I’m helping clear up when the doorbell chimes. He frowns and leaves to go answer it. I carry on, loading the plates into the dishwasher. When I’m done, I take a bottle of water from the fridge. Euan’s still not back. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I poke my head around the kitchen door, into the hallway.
Standing in the hall is the biggest man I’ve ever seen. He’s quite smartly dressed in a buttoned shirt and suit trousers, but despite his smart dress, there’s something about him that makes me instantly wary of him. His entire demeanor is dominating and aggressive. His arms are folded across his massive chest, and he smirks condescendingly at Euan, who is talking in a hushed voice. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but he looks frantic.
Something is wrong.
I slip back into the kitchen and find my bag on the worktop. I dig around until my fingers close around a small metal can of pepper spray. When I first came to America, my sister made me carry it. She said that in a country where everyone has a gun, I at least needed something. I’ve never even thought about using it, I’ve never felt threatened, but suddenly, I do. Holding the spray behind my back, I peer into the hallway again. The big guy has stepped closer to Euan now, their faces are only inches apart. The guy’s voice is a low growl, which Euan visibly cringes away from. I slip the can into my back pocket and make my way towards them.
“I don’t have it!” Euan pleads. His six-foot frame looks positively dwarfed by the monster in front of him.
“I’m sure I can find something around here you can sell,” the guy sneers, his eyes flicking up, then down the hallway. Straight at me.
I stop breathing the instant those flat eyes meet mine. A menacing smile pulls at his lips. “Well, well. What do we have here?” he lilts.
“Ria, go back in the kitchen.” Euan’s voice is shaky.
“Who is he?” I ask.
“No one,” he snaps a little too quickly. The big guy smiles wider.
I can’t help myself. “He doesn’t look like ‘no one.’ He certainly doesn’t look like a friend.” I grind my teeth. Nothing pisses me off more than being treated like an idiot.
The stranger narrows his eyes as a muscle in his jaw starts to tick. I reach for my back pocket, my fingers brushing the pepper spray.
He turns away from me abruptly. “What’s it going to be, Jones? The money, or your legs?” he growls.
“What is he talking about, Euan?”
His eyes flash to mine, a small frown line appearing between his eyebrows before he turns back to Mr. Happy.
“Look.” He hesitates and glances over at me, then back to the ogre. ”Can you give me a minute?” Euan nervously rubs the back of his neck.
The behemoth man seems annoyed, and huffs. “You have one minute, and then shit starts to get ugly.”
“Original,” I mumble.
Euan strides toward me, taking my arm and leading me back into the kitchen.