Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 46132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
“No,” I snarl. “Never. Do you hear me, Andrei, Wolf, whatever the fuck your name is? Never.”
“What is she to you?” Andrei snaps.
Everything.
“You seem to think you’re talking to the Bratva or the Mafia or some other scumbag criminal,” I say fiercely. “But you’re not. You’re talking to me. To Damian fucking Drake. And if you’ve done your research, you’ll know I’m not the sort of man to deal in flesh.”
“This is a mistake—”
“I will kill a hundred of your men to stop you from taking her—a thousand. I don’t care.”
He tuts again, making me want to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze until his eyeballs explode out of his goddamn head.
“You are a hitman, an assassin, not a soldier. Do you truly believe you can take on my army?”
“I guess we’ll find out,” I say.
“Now listen—”
I open the window and toss the phone, hard, over the barrier of the bridge so that it goes sailing into the river below.
His words resound around my head.
She belongs to him? Who the fuck does he think he is?
“Motherfucker,” I roar, slamming my fist against the steering wheel.
“What did he mean?” Dakota whispers, her voice tangled with fear.
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” I say. “You have no idea?”
“No,” she says, shivering.
She cradles Sparky close to her chest and something in me melts when I see my dog curl up in her arms, reality flitting for a moment and a baby taking his place, our baby.
“It doesn’t matter,” I growl. “I won’t let him have you, Dakota. I swear. I’ll die before that happens.”
“Why?” she whispers. “Why would you do that for me, Damian?”
I almost blurt it all out, that she’s mine, forever—she belongs to me.
But then I hear the words in my mind and something strange happens. They repeat, but only this time it’s in Andrei’s voice.
She’s just had one killer say that she’s his property.
How will she react to me telling her the same thing, even if it’s true, even if I’d never hurt her?
I don’t reply. I focus on the road.
I expect Dakota to prompt me, but then she just sighs and turns to her window as we continue to drive over the bridge.
Chapter Eight
Dakota
I sit on the motel bed with my knees to my chest, my arms wrapped around them squeezing tightly.
The past few hours wash through my mind like an impossibility.
We went into the city, to a rundown bar and then into the back, down a secret elevator, and into a small room lit with stark electric-blue light. I held Sparky to my chest as Damian went around the room, tossing guns and bundles of cash into a duffle bag until it was heavy with it.
Then we left, climbing back into his sedan and speeding out of the city, taking a path north.
I glance around the motel room, the digital clock telling me in blood-red letters that it’s four o’clock in the morning, and yet my body is too wired to allow me to sleep as if any second the door is going to bust open and Andrei is going to come barreling through.
His words bite sharply into me every time I remember them, confusion following the terror.
He wants me?
Why?
I’m was just one of their many slaves, another random face in their depravity.
The room lies in semidarkness, lit by the bedside lamp. Everything is neat and clean, and yet there’s a motel smell in the air like the carpet has been vacuumed too many times, and now it’s letting out all its old smells in revenge.
I sigh and my gaze flits to the door that connects to Damian’s room.
“Interconnecting rooms,” he told me, nodding at the door when he led me in here. “If you need anything, just knock. I’ll keep a lookout. You’re safe.”
Then he left me, Sparky trailing at his feet.
The heater hums from the corner, but the cold still creeps into my body, causing me to shiver. The only thing that warms me is thinking about Damian, the way he saved me from Dobry, but also his confusing comments in the car.
I won’t let anything happen to you.
He just left it at that, but I wanted to throw myself at him and slide into his lap, taste his lips and grind hotly against him, panting, hungry for his touch. I wanted to see if I could make his manhood hard by grinding my ass against his crotch, pressing my breasts up against his muscled chest, finding his lips …
It’s silly, it’s crazy, fine.
But then this whole thing is downright crazy.
I force myself to lie down and close my eyes, trying to focus on breathing slowly, letting the exhaustion of my body translate to my mind.
But my mind has different plans, and the moment I shut my eyelids and bring myself into darkness, scenes start to play out in the depths of my consciousness.