Convict Read online A. Zavarelli (Sin City Salvation #2)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Biker, Dark, Erotic, MC, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Sin City Salvation Series by A. Zavarelli
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Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
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“All the locks in the house are electronic,” I informed her. “The dead bolt too.”

“You’re insane.” The vein in her throat pulsed as her hands clenched into fists at her side. “You know that, right?”

“I live on a compound. What did you expect?”

Her eyes darted around, and I assumed she was looking for other ways she could wreak havoc tonight, but I was tired, and it was time for bed.

“All your toiletries are in the bathroom attached to your room. Go brush your teeth and get ready for bed.”

I kicked off my boots, but she didn’t move, and I sensed this was going to be another battle. She confirmed my suspicions when I stood, and she still refused to budge. With a sigh, I stalked toward her, and she attempted to sidestep me. My arm hooked around her waist and hauled her back against me before I forced her body into motion. I didn’t want to hurt her, so when she started to fight, I hoisted her up into my arms and carried her.

“Would you stop doing that?” she screeched.

Her bedroom door was open, and I made it inside without incident. All the fighting from earlier today must have drained her because she wasn’t nearly as combative as I anticipated. Plunking her down onto the bed, I nodded to the adjoining bathroom.

“You’ve got five minutes to brush your teeth and do your business.”

When she looked up at me, her eyes had morphed from sky blue to gray. “Ace,” she choked out. “Please don’t do this.”

The hair on my arms prickled as I considered her tone. Did she think I was going to hurt her?

Irritated, I headed for the door. She called out to me again, and the fear in her voice choked the air from my lungs. I couldn’t figure her out. No matter how much information I’d gathered on her over the past year, it was never enough. Birdie was a fucking mystery to me. And right now, I needed to get as far away as I could before I fell into this trap.

Ignoring her, I shut the door behind me and locked it with the pin code before I wandered down the hall to my own room. I’d give her a few minutes, and then I’d turn out the lights. In the interim, I used that time to roll a joint. Nightly smoking was the only way I could get to sleep, and if I didn’t get my sleep, I was a cranky motherfucker. Before I lit up, I checked the time on my phone and confirmed it had been long enough for Birdie to do her business. I opened the app on my phone again and turned off the lights in her room as I settled back onto my bed and reached for my lighter. That was when I heard the ear-piercing scream.

I CLAWED AT THE SHEETS, desperate to ground myself in reality as I attempted to drag a breath of air into my lungs. Heat singed me from the inside out. Shapes danced in the corners of my vision, moving and distorting around me, ripping me back into the past. Notes of black licorice flooded my senses, and I could practically feel his hands on me again. The hands of the person I thought was my savior, but in the end, he’d turned out to be a monster just like the rest of them.

“I brought you another doll,” he whispered into the darkness.

“I don’t want any more dolls. When are you going to take me away from here like you promised?”

“Soon, princess. Someday soon.”

His hand began to creep up my thigh, and betrayal sliced through me as I curled into myself and pleaded with him not to do this. He promised to save me. He promised to take me away. Gypsy had been right all along. We couldn’t trust anybody…

I squeezed my eyes shut and whispered over and over that it wasn’t real. I wasn’t there anymore. But the voice from my past pierced right through my protective veil, whispering how much he liked it. How much he liked me.

“Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.” I curled into a ball and rocked violently while I tried to drag myself out of the memory. I wasn’t a little girl anymore. I was twenty years old, and I was perfectly fine.

Only I wasn’t. Garbled words flew from my lips and moisture clung to my skin as my breath came hard and fast. Vertigo stole my balance, and my body swayed to the left, nearly toppling over. The space in my throat felt like a pinhole, growing narrower by the second.

I needed air.

Window. There had to be a window. I launched off the bed, scrambling for the wall so I could feel around for the cool air. But in my frantic pursuit, I stumbled into something else—one of my suitcases—and flipped right over it. The resulting crash sent me plummeting onto the tile floor for a second time that day. Tears coated my cheeks, and then light blinded my eyes as the door swung open.



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