Series: The Rossi Crime Family Series by J.L. Beck
Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 66960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
I stand like a statue in the bathroom, a million thoughts running through my mind. Should I try to get away? Should I believe Xander’s words and be scared for my life or should I trust my gut about him? This might be the only chance I get to get away… and all I can think about is my sister possibly dying at the hands of more vile men.
I have to run.
I should run.
Chapter 6
Xander
I wake up in my bed like most mornings. Still, I know right away that something is off. I open my eyes to find it’s already light outside. Rays of sunshine coming through the window make small specks of dust dance in the air.
I suck in a deep breath and catch the lingering sweet scent of a woman.
Shit!
I jump out of my bed, scanning the empty room. Where the fuck did she go? I pull on my pants and run out to the hallway. I’m so fucking angry right now I want to punch through the wall. I march down to the front door, ready to kill something. My guards are standing post exactly where they're supposed to be.
“Did anyone see the girl trying to leave?” I growl at them.
“No, boss, no one tried to leave.”
“You two have been here all night?” I question angrily. How could I have been so dumb to think she wouldn't try and escape?
At their nods, my anger reaches new heights. “Search the house… every fucking inch and if I find out you let her get away, I’ll kill you myself.”
They both spring into action, headed in different directions, while I run back upstairs annoyed as fuck. Where the hell is she? I make it back to the room and look around again. Did she take anything? I don’t think she did. Even my gun is in the drawer of my bedside table. Wouldn’t that be the first thing you take? Maybe her intention wasn't to harm me? Maybe she just wanted to leave? Hell, there is no maybe about it. She wanted to leave. She begged to leave. I pull on a pair of jeans and a shirt, taking my gun and my phone.
I’m about the head back downstairs when my eyes move to the bathroom door. I realize then that in my haste to check the entire house, I hadn't even checked the bathroom. A possessive need to find her pushes me forward, and I grip the door handle.
I don't hear any noise coming from inside, but I open the door anyway. It’s dark and quiet, and I almost turn around and slam the door shut when I see it… see her. Her tiny little body is huddled on the floor beside the toilet.
I flip on the light and rush inside. She is lying motionless on the floor. Her strawberry-blond hair fans out like a halo around her head, making her look like an angel.
Her eyes are closed, and her lips are slightly parted. At first glance, it seems like she is sleeping peaceful but when I kneel down beside her, I can hear her wheezing… struggling to breathe. I pick her up and realize how hot she is… not just hot… she is burning up. Her skin is on fire, and I know I have to do something.
Carrying her almost lifeless body to the tub, I place her inside gently before turning the water on cold. She's not going to like this, not even a little bit, but I don't care. I can't have my mouse dying. The ice-cold water hits her heated skin and she doesn't even flinch. Hell, she doesn't even move really and that tells me all I need to know.
Pulling out the phone from my back pocket, I scroll down until I find Doc Brown’s number then I hit the green call button. Time seems to stand still as the phone rings and rings. My patience is running thin when he finally answers on the third ring.
“Hello?”
“I need you at my house asap.”
“On my way, boss.” That’s why I like him. I call, and he comes running, no questions asked.
While we wait, I crouch down beside the tub, holding my little mouse's head above the cold water. For a moment, I wonder what the fuck I’m doing here. Why am I trying to save her life? This would be the easiest way out for both of us. She dies, and I don’t have to pull the trigger myself.
She has to die anyway; why not let her go now? It would save her a lot of misery and free me from this weird hold she has over me. My fingers clutch her delicate skin… my gaze moving over face.
“Don’t leave me, Mouse,” I say out loud, shocked that I let them cross my lips.
Why does the thought of her dying feel like a fucking knife in my heart?