Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 118333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
What had happened to Teresa . . . it had shaken him to his very foundations.
Was he worried . . . for me?
“Tanner,” I whispered and lifted to my knees. I wrapped my arms around his tense neck, watched his cheek twitch. He swallowed back the emotion he was trying so hard to disguise. “Talk to me.”
“I can’t lose you,” Tanner admitted. As his words hit my ears, I felt my heart explode in my chest. I stilled. My breathing became labored and I felt fresh tears track down my cheeks.
“You won’t,” I reassured. Tanner inhaled deeply.
His hands came up and cupped my face. “You have people after you all the time.” He paused to gather himself. “You could get attacked every time you walk out of the main gates.” Tanner’s hands were locked on my face. I held his wrists. “Fuck!” he swore. “I won’t be here to keep you safe.”
My stomach turned in dread of not seeing him again. Of not having him in my life. Tanner went to speak again, but I didn’t hear it. My nerves jangled, my emotions were over-wrought. They switched from Teresa to Tanner, and the thought of not being in his arms again. Of having him express his feelings to me. Of hearing this man who had been crafted into being a violent, terrifying killer. Consumed by prejudice and bigotry, who through us, had started seeing life in a different way. Questioning his values—the ones that had been beaten into him since he was a child.
The scars on his back told the story of how an innocent boy had been hurt and wickedly crafted into the man his father had so carefully molded. The scars on his back and chest sang a harrowing song of a little boy crying out to be heard and loved, only to be soured against the variety of life, cultures and all the colors that enrich this world.
My hands ran over every scar. I prayed my touch—a touch that he once believed sullied and vile—would inspire him to leave the life that had been forced upon him. I hoped it would drive him to break away, to truly love, to laugh . . . and to live.
Tanner’s mouth was tender against mine. I felt desperate for his lips and kiss. Tanner took control, keeping it soft and gentle. He might not have said the words, but with this kiss, he told me he loved me. When everything seemed cruel and dark, he cast in me a single flicker of light. I prayed that it was strong enough to hold its flame when he was gone.
I couldn’t break away. I needed to breathe, but I didn’t want his mouth to tear from mine. I wanted to keep his palms on my face, with my hands soothing the scars he had borne for too long.
I moaned into his mouth, and under his touch I let myself forget where we were. I foolishly let my defenses down to the danger getting caught with him would pose. Tanner started backing me down to the ground, then suddenly the echo of a gun safety being released sounded like thunder around us. Tanner froze against my lips.
I slowly pulled back my mouth from Tanner’s. Shock rendered me speechless. Vincente, my guard and Diego’s best friend, had his gun pointed at the back of Tanner’s head. “Vincente—”
“Quiet,” Vincente ordered. He flashed his dark eyes my way and I saw the clear judgment of betrayal glaring back at me. My hands shook as I next looked to Tanner. He was crouched on the ground, unmoving. I had to do something. I got to my feet.
“Vincente,” I whispered. “Get back from Señor Ayers.” Vincente’s lips rolled over his teeth, showing his anger. “This isn’t a request. It is an order.”
“With all apologies,” Vincente said, “I have orders from Diego that take precedence.” Like hell he did!
“And what are those?” I asked, seething that Diego would dare defy me.
“That if you were ever caught with anyone romantically, I was to kill them on sight.” My stomach fell and my hands shook with dread. Had we been too obvious? Did Diego suspect something?
No . . . we had been careful. It was just Diego and his jealous nature. He had been this way since we were children.
Suddenly, Tanner leaped to his feet and knocked the gun from Vincente’s hand. In seconds he was behind Vincente. I didn’t have time to even blink before Tanner’s hands had wrapped around Vincente’s head. Vincente’s eyes, for a split second, fixed on mine. Then Tanner’s hands moved, the crack of Vincente’s neck snapping under his touch echoing around the silent garden.
I didn’t move my eyes from Vincente’s. They remained fixed on mine, until Tanner dropped him to the ground. My limbs went numb with shock. I stumbled back. Vincente . . . I had known Vincente since I was a child. I couldn’t wrest my eyes from his dark hair, from his suit, dirtied by the path. From his stiff body, from his wide-open eyes now staring into nothing.