Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 169(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 169(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
“Fucking ugly, useless bitch.”
Now, for some odd reason, that really pissed Braxton off.
“You’re going to rape this woman, and you’re insulting her. If she was so ugly, why drag her down here in the first place?”
The man in question stood and spun around. “Fuck off. This is my piece of pussy.”
Not a good idea. Braxton didn’t like being spoken to that way. He never accepted it. As it happened, he’d kept to the shadows. He smiled and stepped out into the light. He loved the cover of darkness, but now he saw the shock, the fear, and underneath it all, there was revulsion. Braxton didn’t care. He was used to people being startled by his appearance. He’d had many years to grow accustomed to the way people treated him.
“Would you like to say that one more time?” Braxton asked, and was rather impressed with his ability to talk nicely. He wasn’t known for being civil, not after being spoken to like a piece of shit.
The man squared his shoulders and sneered. “Fuck off.”
He shook his head and then launched his attack. The assailant may have been used to people being afraid, or even just used to overpowering women. Against Braxton, with one punch, the man fell to the ground, groaning. Then he picked him up, slammed him against the wall, and already had his knife embedded in the man’s throat. When someone insulted him, he liked to take his time, to make the moment last. To force them to look into his eyes as he took their life, for them to know and understand the mistake they had made. He didn’t know if this little fucker knew what he’d done, but by the end of it, he surely did.
Giving a little tut, he watched the light completely snuff out of his eyes, and he didn’t stop. He wanted to see it all ebb away until there was nothing there. Then he let him fall to the ground. Pulling out his blade, he wiped the excess blood on the man, and then moved toward the woman.
Braxton was tempted to leave her, and he pulled the bastard’s jacket from her face. Staring at her, he saw the blood on her forehead. She was going to need stitches. There was no way she was going to the hospital.
Anger filled Braxton as he realized the bastard had put the jacket on her face, to what? Humiliate her? Imply that she wasn’t pretty enough? It pissed him off that a piece of filth would do this.
Braxton couldn’t leave her, which pissed him off.
Bending down, he happened to notice her curves. Years of doing weights and training, lifting men twice her size, she weighed nothing to him. He lifted her up in his arms, and then carried her out of the alleyway.
What the hell was she doing walking alone on a Friday night? Why didn’t she have a gun? A knife? Even pepper spray?
He carried her down the street, and it was strange that no one passed them. Going to his car, he placed her in the back seat, being careful not to bang her head.
Shaking his head as he closed the door, he climbed behind the wheel and turned over the ignition. He listened to the engine purr to life, and at the same time couldn’t believe he had a fucking civilian in the back of his car. He didn’t get involved with this kind of shit. When she woke up, she was going to panic, freak out, and it was going to piss him off.
When he picked her up, he had also grabbed her purse. He opened the purse and rummaged through her bag. He saw a cell phone, a few bags of candy, tissues, a tampon, a few items of makeup. Other than that, no pepper spray, nor any other weapon for her to attack anyone.
Who was this woman? Why was she walking around alone? Why was she alone?
Anger ran down his spine, but he took a deep breath and attempted to ignore it, rubbing his eyes. It wasn’t like he could go and re-kill the man who attacked her.
He found an ID card and noticed there was no driver’s license. Jade Newton, thirty years old. She worked at a cosmetics retail store. She was not smiling in the picture.
“Who are you?” he asked.
In the picture she wore glasses, but there hadn’t been any on her face tonight. She must be wearing contacts, not that it mattered to him.
Putting her purse back inside the bag, he pulled out her cell phone and brought up her contact list, only to be a little taken aback. Work, emergency, the doctor, dentist, library, and landlord. Those were her only contacts. Did this woman have no friends?
He dropped her cell phone into her bag and then glanced back at her. Was she a hit woman? Another bounty hunter that had gotten caught and taken off guard? Was this a trap?