Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 83970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
The shower washed away the layers of makeup she had on last night and multiple attacks are evident on her face in the form of bruises in different stages of healing; the most recent being on the apple of her left cheek. The sight of the blue and purple mark makes me want to reconsider Shadow’s offer to pay the fucker a visit.
“We can swing by your house to grab some of your things if you want.” My offer has more than one intention, and I see Shadow and Kid perk up at my words.
“Please, no,” she begs and tilts her head slightly, so her hair covers part of her face; a move I’m certain she’s perfected from years of abuse.
Both of the guys faces fall at her rejection of my offer, and I‘m right there with them.
“Okay,” I tell her. “Then let’s head to Farmington.”
Chapter 5
Emmalyn
Every time I try to tell myself that this is the craziest situation I’ve ever been in, my brain reminds me that I’ve spent years with a man whose favorite pastime is to beat the shit out of me and make me feel like it’s my fault. Years of walking on eggshells. Years of second guessing each and every action I take; monitoring each and every word that comes out of my mouth. Knowing that in the end, it wouldn’t matter, and he’d still hurt me.
Climbing into a van filled with a biker, one I have no clue what his actual name is, and half a dozen black duffle bags pales in comparison to the insanity I’ve been living in.
“Thank you, Diego.” He’s holding the door to the van open for me as I sit down in the front seat.
He doesn’t say anything for a long minute but just looks at my face. A face I know is battered and bruised and not easy for even me to look at, so I can only imagine what he feels when he sees me.
“What?” I finally manage to whisper after attempting to get my hair to fall back over my face.
I shift my face back a few inches and away from his hand as he slowly reaches up and shifts my hair back over my shoulder. “I like you calling me Diego. Not many people do.”
“Would you prefer Kincaid?” I dart my eyes back and forth to his, looking for the minute he changes.
His thumb traces the bruise Bobby gave me before work last night, causing my lip to tremble at the memory. “I like the way Diego sounds coming from your lips.” His voice is husky and betrays the interest he’s been attempting to hide since we first saw each other in the bar last night.
He clears his throat roughly and takes a step back removing his hand from my skin. “Kid grabbed you some food for the first half of the trip, and we’ll stop for dinner once we cross the state line. Do you need anything else before we hit the road?”
I shake my head no and look forward as he gently shuts the door. He’s being very tender, something I’d never expect from a biker, something I’m not very familiar with. I don’t know how to respond. At this point in my life, I have no idea the direction my life will take. I have no plans. Hell, I have no ability to plan anything at this point. Other than Diego, I have no clue what New Mexico holds.
I have no desire to reach out to my aunt. I deserted them long ago, and the shame I feel over that is enough to keep me away for good. What I do know is that I never want to see Robert Mikaelson again, and I’m hoping that with Diego’s help I can make that a reality.
Diego and Shadow pull out of the parking lot first. We leave behind them, and I see Wrench in the side mirror behind us. The protective feel of having the motorcycles in front and behind us once again makes me wonder what’s in the bags in the back. I’m not going to ask; rather I send up a silent prayer that if these guys are hauling drugs, we make it to where ever we’re heading without interruption of the police. As the saying goes, beggars can’t be choosers, and I’m well aware these guys are my only hope if I want to rid myself of Bobby permanently.
“Grabbed a couple of cheeseburgers and fries,” Kid says pointing at brown paper bag sitting on the center console. “I didn’t know what you’d want to drink, so I just got bottled water.”
“Thank you.”
I take the bottle of water closest to me in the cup holder and take a small sip. “I’m not really hungry, but I appreciate the thought.”
I couldn’t eat right now if someone was forcing me. My stomach is in knots as my head tries to evaluate my life as a whole. I close my eyes, thankful not to be bumping along on the back of a motorcycle, and lean my head against the window. I stayed awake as long as I possibly could last night, which means I haven’t had but a few hours of sleep. Exhaustion takes me under quickly.