Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 114(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 114(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
I yank my hand out of his hold. Nothing.
But of course it's a lie.
It's the opposite of 'nothing' when a murderous little icicle like me has suddenly turned into a drama queen, and all because of what? The fear that I'll lose Rake if I expose my true colors?
Stop being so grossly insecure, Kayra Petinos!
This kind of thinking will only have my dead sister turning in her grave again, not to mention how completely unbecoming it is for someone born to a mafia family like me.
And besides...
Who says he has to know the real me, right?
Honesty is for suckers, and if I don't want Rake to see the real me, then he won't. I'll simply hide it from him forever, and now that particular problem is solved—-
No more distractions while on the job!
The door to Room 418 is locked, so of course I kick it open, and instinct takes over after that. I'm already in the zone as soon as the first man tries (and fails) to knock my teeth off with his fist.
I'm not sure how much time passes after that.
Or how much blood has been shed.
It's only when everyone's all beaten up and unconscious on the ground, and adrenaline gradually stops pumping through my veins that I remember—-
Shit.
I've forgotten all about Rake, and rather than hiding myself like planned, the real me ended up putting quite a show.
Nice, Kayra. Real nice...you idiot.
If he's gone, he's gone, and I will not let myself go crazy—-oh.
Rake suddenly appears by the doorway of a bedroom, still looking gorgeous and immaculate except for noticeably bruised fists. "Hello again."
"Uh...hi?"
He closes the distance between us, and his gaze turns brooding as he comes to a stop before me. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"
I look at him warily. Is he talking about how my pulse tends to race at the slightest hint of violence? Or is he talking about how I didn't hold back at all even when I was beating up another woman? Or maybe he caught me almost smiling—-
Stop assuming things, Kayra!
I lift my chin and pretend I'm Bailey when she's trying to play it cool with her husband for whatever reason. "I'm not sure I'm getting you."
"There's no need to play coy."
Huh?
"I'm not playing—-stop that!"
Rake ignores my slapping hands as he pinches my cheeks.
"Why didn't you tell me my future wife is such a badass?"
No, no, no!
I am not going to make him cockier by letting myself smile—-wait.
Does this mean he doesn't care about seeing the real me?
And why is he still pinching my cheeks, darn it?
"Stop that."
I shove him away as I finally remember what I've come here for, and I'm aware of Rake following behind me to watch my six as I start searching through the apartment. Sweet and misguided of him, as always.
"What are we looking for?" Rake asks.
We get to the master's bedroom, and my steps come into an abrupt halt when I see the most awful painting hanging over the headboard.
"Is that a...vagina?"
Rake chokes.
"Ever heard of GRWK?"
"Guh-ruh-wuck?"
Rake spells it out, and my eyes widen. I know it's been a while since I last went to school, but how is it that people can easily read words or names now without vowels?
"You obviously haven't heard of him," Rake observes with a grin, "but he's one of the most popular artists in recent years—-"
"Because he likes painting vaginas?"
"That's actually an African tulip."
I look at it again, but for the life of me I can't see anything floral—-
Shit.
The look in his eyes tells me that he heard the same thing I did, and both of us start hacking away as the pitiful little cries get louder.
Shit, shit, shit.
It's only when we've flipped the whole bed over that we see underneath it a small rug...used to cover a padlocked door. I use the butt of my gun to break the lock open, and my usually hard-as-stone heart breaks next at what I see.
"Fuck!"
Rake is already on his knees and reaching down for an emaciated-looking dog that has blisters and sores all over its body.
Damn them.
It's times like this when I find myself dangerously close to crossing the line and letting my monster take over.
Will it be really bad to kill people who don't deserve to live?
IT'S ABOUT AN HOUR later when the emergency vet finally comes out and gives us the happy news. Milo the Yorkshire terrier is showing signs of recovery, and we should consider ourselves as real-life heroes for getting him to the hospital in time.
"So..."
Rake's gaze narrows on me as soon as the vet leaves, and it's just the two of us again in the waiting room.
"Are you part of some secret animal-loving cult that thinks tracking down human abusers is their calling?"
How is this man ex-FBI, like seriously?
"Because if you are, I want in."
He is not going to make me smile again like I'm normal.