Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 146477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 732(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 146477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 732(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Laith. He killed Laith.
My brows crease, darkness bubbling in my vision, bringing me in and out. My eyelids grow heavy, desperate to let the pain consume me and slip away into the nothingness.
“Stay with me, kitten. Who did this?”
Why did he have to hurt Laith?
I force myself to stay awake, trying to pull the images from my brain and make sense of everything that happened. Did I get jumped? Raped? I don’t know. I remember men hovering around me, someone dragging me by my hair, fists slamming into my face.
There was somebody there, somebody I knew. But why? Why would he want to hurt me?
I pull at every last memory, and with each passing second, my brain hurts more, but I need to know how this happened. Who would do this to me?
I came out of the tattoo parlor and gripped my bag, digging through it for my keys. Panic was thick in my chest, but why? My hand shot out like lightning. I felt threatened. Men standing around me. Someone dropping to the ground and screaming something.
“Get her.” I repeat the words out loud. “Get her. Get her.”
“What?” the masked driver demands. “Get who?”
“That’s what he said. Get her. I hit him, and he said get her and they all—” a thick lump forms in my throat, and it becomes almost impossible to take a breath as the visions come back in screaming color.
“Who said it?” he demands.
I shake my head, and my brain instantly pounds. “I screamed at them, begged them to stop, but they just kept hurting me.” I weep on the backseat of the car, struggling to hold myself still as every turn and bump in the road slings me around. “They wouldn’t stop. Why would they hurt me like that?”
“Tell me who they are, kitten,” he prompts, knowing time is running out, knowing it won’t be long until the darkness swallows me whole.
“Why?” I cry. “Why did you kill him? Why did you kill my Laith?”
“Focus, kitten,” he demands. “Picture his face. Picture his words. Tell me who he is. What does he look like? Do you know his name? Met him before? Come on, kitten. You can do this. Tell me what you know.”
I think back to the moment outside my car, my hand snapping out and hitting his throat, and I replay it over and over, trying to pull the images together inside my brain. Why was I so scared? Why was I rushing to get in the car? There’s an uneasiness there, the same feeling I sometimes get at work when . . . fuck.
The janitor. Vincent’s replacement.
“Work,” I say. “Guy from work.”
“Good girl,” he rumbles. “What guy? Do you know his name?”
“Janitor,” I finally say, picturing it so clearly now, every moment his fist slammed into my face, every moment he spat on me, kicked and belittled me. He stole my car and left me for dead, allowing his friends to tear into my flesh like they deserved it, like my life meant nothing.
Fresh tears well in my eyes, and I feel my eyelids growing heavy again.
“That’s a good kitten,” the familiar voice says. “You’re going to be alright now.”
“Kill him,” I murmur as my body gives up the fight, knowing he will do whatever it takes to make this right. “Kill him just like you’ll do to me.”
And in that very same breath, darkness crashes over me like a tsunami, claiming everything in its path.
31
KNIGHT
After getting back to the station from a call, the boys and I collapse on the benches in the locker room. It was a rough one, and while we always come out with a successful job, that doesn’t mean that it didn’t push us to our limits.
We’re all fucking wrecked, but this right here is exactly why we do the job. The challenge keeps us going, the adrenaline, and the knowledge that what we do saves lives.
Diesel sits forward, his elbows braced on his knees as Ace leans back against his locker. They were talking about heading out after this, but from the look on their faces, they clearly just want to go home and crash. Hell, so do I. But knowing that Harper is waiting for me in my bed sends fire blasting through my veins.
Things are changing, but I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t nervous. A part of me wonders if she’s clinging to me because I can offer her a safety net against her stalker. I love that she feels safe with me, that it’s my home she runs to when her world is going up in flames. I just need to know that her feelings for me are genuine, and that after this stalker bullshit is done and dusted, she’s still going to feel the same.
After finding just a shred of energy, I go to get up from the bench when an incoming call draws all of my attention, and I let out a heavy groan, too fucking tired to be dealing with some other bullshit.