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)
I draw my arm back to punch him, but instead I turn and slam it into the brick fireplace, my knuckles splitting open against the rough stones. “Touch me again, and I’ll break your fucking arm, old man.”
Bob pulls his gun and heads out of the living room, mumbling to himself.
“Hey!” I shout. “Hey!” I run after him, grabbing his shoulders and jerking him back. “What the hell do you think you are doing?”
“I’m gonna fucking kill her since you’re too weak to do it. Joe Campbell‘s not fucking with anyone else in this family…my sister and niece were enough!”
I snatch the weapon from his hand. The metal slips in my damp palm as I place the tip against his temple. “I’ll handle the girl, got that?” I shout. Bob’s eyes narrow in a menacing stare. I cock the gun and press the barrel harder against his skull. “Question me, and I will fucking end you. Right now, she belongs to me. You fuck with something of mine, I will blow your fucking brains all over that damn wall. Don’t doubt that!”
I notice him swallow before he straightens up. “Let’s be sure she’s involved; in the meantime Joe will have us all slaughtered in our sleep!”
“Are you fucking stupid?” My finger twitches over the trigger, and I lean in to him.
“Jude!” Caleb sounds terrified. “We’re just alarmed. Don’t fucking shoot him.”
I glare at Bob, my nostrils flaring. “Disrespect me again and see what the fuck happens.” I release him, pushing him back against the wall, and he stumbles. His gaze holds mine silently for a few moments. I can tell he wants to say something, but he knows better.
“Don’t fuck with me! I don’t have a problem washing your blood off my hands, family or not!” I shout as I make my way down the hallway. My integrity is at stake, my livelihood, my life.
The hinges to the bedroom door creak as I push it open. She’s sitting on the bed, wearing one of my shirts and a pair of boxers. My eyes instinctually travel over her lean, exposed legs, and I have to swallow hard. Fuck, she looks hot. I tear my eyes from her body and try to focus on her face. Those deep blue eyes of hers are so damn innocent, and her plump, pouty lips are the kind any man would love to see wrapped around his cock. Instinct takes over and for a split second all I can do is imagine her on her knees, those fucking eyes looking up at me. Damn. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to think of anything but fucking her mouth.
I redirect my attention to the task at hand. I start to call her name, but refuse. I’m not using her name because that will make her real. That will make me see her as a person, and I can’t do that because there’s a good chance I’m going to have to kill her, whether I like it or not. The business comes first. Family comes first. I need to figure out what she knows. I take a step in her direction, and she scoots back on the bed. Fear will not work in this situation, so what the fuck do I do? She needs to think she can trust me. If she does work for Joe, I need her to feel like she’s in danger with him, like I will protect her. I need her to see him as the bad guy. I nod and clear my throat, not moving from the doorway. How the hell do I do this? “Hey…”
Her eyes lift to mine, a small frown line appearing between her brows. “Hi,” she replies, an edge of apprehension in her voice as she quickly lowers her gaze back to her lap.
“Look”—I skim my hand over the back of my neck and inhale to make my tone soften—“maybe the shower thing was a bit much…”
Silence. I watch her pick at her cuticles, refusing to look up at me. “I’ve come to expect the worst from you, Jude. Don’t worry about it,” she mumbles.
I cringe at the use of my name. I don’t like when she says it. At all.
“Don’t fight me, then. I don’t like this situation any more than you do.”
Raising her head, she locks her eyes on mine. “The moment I stop fighting is the moment I become a victim and you stop being the enemy.”
I shake my head. She’s delusional. She already is a victim, for fuck’s sake, I think she just refuses to believe that.
“Okay, well, I don’t want to make you a victim.” I take several steps toward the bed and stop at the foot.
“That’s exactly what you want,” she says. “I’ve known men like you. You thrive on power.”
“Look, you don’t know me, so stop psychoanalyzing what you’ve seen. You want me to let you out of here? You need to tell me why your boyfriend gave you up as collateral.”