Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
“Please…” he whispers as he begins crying again.
At that moment, I wonder if my mother cried when she begged for my life the day someone put a gun to her head and killed her.
My mother’s killer never even gave her the chance to beg or plead for her own life. She only begged for mine. At least I’m considerate enough to allow my debtors that chance.
“You have two weeks until I come back to collect. If you don’t have the money by then, I will be choosing an alternate payment. One way or another, I’ll get something out of this.” I smile, simply because I’m a sick bastard like that.
My men release him, and before I step out of the rundown farmhouse, my eyes land on a photo of his daughter. She is pretty, a bright smile and kind eyes. That would soon change if her father didn’t come up with the cash.
“Your daughter would bring a pretty penny at auction. Probably more than you owe me. I’d let you have the difference.”
“No, please, she is innocent.”
“That’s why she would make us a lot of money, old man.” I grin, and my guys chuckles.
She is almost too pretty to let go. Too innocent to sell.
Maybe I’ll keep her for myself.
I swirl the amber liquid around my glass as I look at her picture for the hundredth time. I don’t know what it is about her, but it has me captivated.
Her image has been pulled up on my laptop since I returned from her father’s farm. I might as well set it as my wallpaper. What the hell is wrong with me?
I never get like this with a woman, especially not one I’ve never met. All I have seen are a few pictures. I don’t know how she smells, sounds, or feels. Ugh, the thought of touching her has my cock hardening in my slacks.
The more I think about keeping her for myself, the more I like the idea.
Never before have I wished for someone not to come up with the money owed. I find myself hoping he can’t pay, so I can take her instead.
If he does pay, I might have to come up with another way to get my fingers on her.
A knock on my office door drags me out of my thoughts.
“Come in,” I order gruffly, annoyed by the interruption of my picture ogling.
Mack walks in a moment later. He has been my right hand and closest friend for many years. One of the few people I trust. I have many men working for me, but besides Mack, Eli, and Jared, I don’t really trust anyone.
“Want to go out and have some fun tonight?” he asks, grinning from ear to ear, and I know exactly what kind of fun he is insinuating.
“Why don’t you head out alone tonight. I’m busy.”
“Anything I can do?”
“Actually, yes. Before you head out, find a way to send a message to Amara Morris. I want her to come home when the old man’s time is up, and make it look like it came from her father. I don’t want her to be suspicious.”
“No problem. Consider it done.” Mack sounds confident. I hope he can get it done.
I need her to be here. Because regardless of her father being able to pay, I will find a way to make her mine.
2
Amara
It has been almost two months since I’ve seen my dad. I’d been hesitant about leaving for college because it meant leaving him all alone at the farm. Especially after the promise I made to my mom.
Truthfully, I wasn’t sure he could even make his own breakfast in the morning, do his laundry, or figure out how to run the vacuum.
Mom had always done everything, and after she died, I tried my best to take care of him and the house. He never asked or expected me to do most of the household chores like cooking, cleaning, and laundry, but I did because I loved him.
I pull my car onto our dirt road and instantly feel as if there is something wrong. I can’t yet put my finger on it, but something feels off. Honestly, when I got my father’s message asking me to come home, I felt something was off.
It wasn’t like him to send me an email. He would usually call, but his email sounded urgent, and he wouldn’t answer his phone, so I got in the car and came.
Getting closer to the farmhouse, I notice two black SUVs parked in front. The sight did nothing to ease the knots forming in my stomach.
Who the heck could that be? The only people coming to our house are the occasional salesman or people from the local church. Neither one would be driving cars like this.
I spot a man in a dark suit standing outside of one, his hand on a shiny item at his hip.