Touch of Hate Read Online J.L. Beck, Cassandra Hallman

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Forbidden, Mafia, Romance Tags Authors: ,
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Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
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It takes a minute or so, but I’m pretty confident that what I’m hearing is his soft, steady breathing. I’m sure he laid on the couch at some point and is now peacefully asleep. Good, and not only because he needs it.

I’ve never seen a person go so long without sleeping more than a couple of hours a night, tops. Eventually, he’s going to break down in a very serious way.

I can’t be here when he does. As much as I hate the idea of leaving him alone to suffer, it has to be done. I’ll return for him with the help he needs. Things will be different then.

My eyes sweep the room before I even know what I’m thinking about. Like my survival instinct has kicked into overdrive while the rest of me fights to catch up. My gaze lands on something I bought at Walmart before we went to Reno, anticipating a nice night and the potential to dress up and do my hair.

A handful of hairpins sit on the dresser, practically begging to be used.

I grab a couple of them, unbending them as I crouch in front of the doorknob. I’ve never actually tried to do this before, but I’ve seen it done, and I understand the mechanics. It’s only a matter of doing it quietly enough that Ren won’t be disturbed.

This is insanity. The part of me that wants nothing to do with this, the part that thinks it would be perfectly reasonable to pretend this never happened and settle for hoping he feels better when he wakes up. The voice screams in my head. This is Ren. He wouldn’t hurt me.

I need to wake up. The fact is, he has already hurt me. Just because I’m not bruised doesn’t mean no harm has been done. He mocked me for my reaction to the way he killed that man, taunted me, and treated me like I was nothing. That’s not even counting the anxiety he’s made me feel.

That part of him is still inside. I can’t pretend it’s not. I’ve pretended all along, and it hasn’t helped anything.

That’s what I need to keep in mind as I begin to pick the lock. My hands are shaking too much at first to be effective, but the memory of what I’m carrying inside me and how much they need to be protected focuses my energy and steadies me. I can get through this. I have to get through this.

Slowly, I insert the first pin into the lock, turning the tumbler slightly before inserting the second tiny piece of metal. I ease it in, feeling around for the pins comprising the lock, concentrating hard on the feel of them as I go from one to the next, lifting them as I slide the metal along.

Am I doing this right?

I think I am, but I won’t be sure until I finish. It does seem like it’s working, but no matter how hard I try, this is not a silent job. The knob jiggles, and metal scrapes against metal. Panic rises up, bubbling over the surface.

I’m making too much noise. I know it.

Especially when I drop one of the pins to the floor. In the silent cabin, it’s as loud as if I’d struck a drum, but that could also be my overheated imagination running away with me.

Either way, I freeze up with my heart in my throat at the sound of movement from the other side of the door.

He moves fast, so fast there’s hardly time for me to get out of the way before he unlocks the door and shoves it open.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demands, his blue eyes stormy, his lips pulled back from his teeth in a nasty snarl. “Trying to get away? Is that what this is? To think you promised him you would always stay.”

All I can do is stumble to my feet and cry out in a desperate plea for mercy, hoping to get through. “Ren, please, don’t do this.”

If anything, my plea makes things worse. With a growl, he lunges at me, arms extended, but somehow, I manage to duck past him and into the living room.

He catches me easily with a heavy arm wrapped around my waist. He throws me down onto the couch, all the air seeping out of my lungs.

“This is how you want to play it? I’ll be the cat, and you be the mouse? You know there’s no getting away from me.”

I roll onto my back, frantic, trying to sit up but held in place by his much larger body, caging me in. “Stop this,” I beg, my voice clogged with emotion. “This is me, Scarlet. I love you.”

What am I even doing? Trying to pull him back to me. He finds it hilarious, his bitter laughter ringing out over my breathless sobs.



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