Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
She’s in a black tank top and tiny panties, and damn, it’s a sight that’s hard to ignore. But it’s not just the allure that catches me; it’s the bruises painting her skin, a harsh reminder of the hell she’s been through. It stirs a mix of anger and protectiveness in me, seeing her so vulnerable yet trying to find some normalcy.
“Cassidy,” I say, my voice edged with a rawness I can barely keep in check. I’m teetering on a razor’s edge of fury, wanting to track down every last one of those bastards who hurt her.
She turns slightly, giving me a look that’s a mixture of defiance and pain. “I don’t need to cook, I know. But I want to,” she says with a half-hearted laugh. Her attempt to keep things light doesn’t quite mask the shadow in her eyes. “You’ve at least earned these basic scrambled eggs after everything you’ve done for me.”
I can’t help but crack a smile at her attempt to joke. “Just basic eggs?” I step closer, trying to inject a bit of lightness into the moment. “Looks like I’ve got more work to do to earn the gourmet stuff then.”
Her laughter, more genuine this time, fills the room, softening the edges of my anger. It’s a reminder of why I’m here, why I did what I did. “Yeah, breakfast is on me,” she continues, her smile reaching her eyes this time as I lift her onto the counter beside the stove. “But don’t expect a feast. I’m a one-trick pony with these scrambled eggs.”
“Too late to make changes,” I growl and lean in to kiss her neck, loving the way she can’t control her reaction to me. “I’ll earn gourmet fucking eggs.”
Her next few words come out with a breathy moan. “You earned Michelin five star eggs, but I can’t make ’em. Feel free to earn away, though.” She gasps when my fingers hook inside her panties, brushing over her pussy lips. “You wicked biker,” she whispers in my ear, bucking her hips forward when I slide a finger deep.
The doorbell rings, and we let out simultaneous groans. “I’ll kill whoever it is.”
Cassidy laughs. “It might be important.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” I growl as the bell rings again, multiple times in a row. “Yep. Death.” She laughs again, but it dies on her lips when my finger slips from her pussy and goes right between my lips.
“Death is too good for whoever it is,” she says, eyes glazed over with lust.
“See? I knew we were on the same page.” The smile I’m wearing grows at the taste of Cassidy on my tongue, but it fades when I open the door and find Wild Man on my doorstep. “What’s wrong?”
“I need to talk to your girl,” he said, brushing past me and heading straight for the kitchen. “It’s important.”
The hint of a smile that had been curling her lips dies quickly at the sight of Wild Man. Her skin pales, and the plate of toast tips over onto the floor. “What is it?”
Wild Man stills, taking a look at Cassidy with a frown. “Oh shit. I’m interrupting. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” she assures him, bending down to pick up the toast.
That’s Cassidy. Unflappable. And coming back to normal, slowly but surely.
“I’ll, uhm, leave you two guys to talk biker stuff. Or whatever.”
Wild Man slides directly in front of her. “I actually need to talk to you. Please?”
Her gaze shoots from him to me and back before she nods and sits at the opposite end of the table. I rush to the bathroom and grab the robe on the back of the door.
“Okay. What about? I don’t know anything about those guys other than the few bits I heard from the closet.” She closes her eyes and shivers as just mentioning that fucking shithole takes her right back there.
“I saw the video from inside your truck, so I have a good idea who took you, but it would help if you could confirm it.”
She takes the robe and wraps it around her. “You want me to describe them or something because I can’t really draw for shit.”
Wild Man’s lips curl into a reluctant smile. “No, I just want you to look at some pictures and tell me if you’ve seen any of these people.”
“Okay.” She shrugs, stiffening when Wild Man shifts to a chair closer to her, turning his tablet screen in her direction. She glues her gaze to the screen, shaking her head at every unfamiliar face. Then, she points to the screen. “Him, with the white hair, he took me. He’s also the one who,” she lifts her hand to show off her wrapped hand.
She points out Olivera and Tiny. “The fat guy did the hand and the nail,” she says softly. Cassidy looks at me and asks, “Do you know what happened to the guy I shot?”