Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 23750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Where am I? My body aches everywhere. My mind drifts in and out as I attempt to focus on what just happened to me.
I try to look up at who is carrying me, but something is covering me. Blocking me from the rain I hear pouring down now. A flash of my grandfather’s face snaps in and out of my mind.
“Please. Don’t let him find me.”
The man's steps falter for a moment. “I’ve got you. I promise you're safe with me.”
“Safe,” I repeat. The word feels so foreign in my mouth. Unknown. I relax into the man, for some reason believing him. My eyes drift closed again. “You'll keep me safe?” I whisper. I’m sure he can’t hear me. The rain is too loud.
“Always,” his deep rough voice responds before I drift off into darkness.
Chapter Two
Orlando
I pull her little body close. My heart is still pounding when it shouldn't be. I’m more than fit. I can run for miles without getting winded. But right now, I can’t get my racing heart to slow. When I hit my porch, Marta throws open the door and looks at me with wide eyes.
“Sir?” she asks. Her eyes go to the small girl in my hands.
“Call Doc and get your husband to get that car out of my gate. Put it in the garage for now,” I tell her as I head up the stairs, taking them two at a time. I don’t know why, but I head straight for my bedroom. I kick the door open and head for the bed, laying her down on it. I pull the flag away from her. I’d shielded her body with it, protected her from the elements.
I’d been rushing outside to take the flag down when the rain had started to pour. When I got it down I started to run back toward the house. And then I heard the loud crash. I took off towards the sound to see some old antique sports car smacked into the side of the gate. Irritation hit me at first.
How stupid was someone to be driving a car like that in a storm like this? When I landed on the hood of the car after climbing over the gate and saw the young girl inside, protectiveness hit me like a fucking freight train.
I’d somehow managed to push the car over a little, then pried the gates open so I could get back through them without having to climb over. After smashing the window I pulled her from the car.
The sweetest chocolate eyes met mine, but the sight of her blood and the bruise on her cheek have me riding a hard edge I don’t even think I experienced in my days as a Ranger. I look down at the dark-haired angel, not sure what I should do next. My fingers itch to reach out and touch her. I only hold back for a moment before I brush the wet hair out of her face.
“Fuck,” I mumble. Even with the small cut on her forehead and the bruise, it’s easy to see she’s breathtaking. She really does look like a dark-haired angel. The white dress that has molded to her body only makes it truer. I can’t help but notice her nipples are pebbled. My eyes lock there.
I growl and turn away. She’s freaking hurt and I’m ogling her. Is this what happens when you spend years holed up in your home and keep the rest of the world out? The sight of a woman like her sends you into full-blown lust?
No, that can’t be it. While I might keep the rest of the world at bay, I do still have staff that come and go. Some are female, and I’ve never had a reaction like this before. I run my hand down my face and try to get myself together. I need to help her.
I head toward the bathroom and grab some towels and washcloths. I dig through the drawers searching for anything that might help her. When I rush back to her side, Marta is standing at my door.
“Sir?” She’s unsure of what to do, not because of the girl, but because no one is allowed in my bedroom. Not even the staff. I even clean it myself. I don’t care for people being in my personal space. I’d retained that particular quirk when I retired from being a Ranger.
“Enter,” I grit out, pushing past my own bullshit. This isn't about me. It’s about the little bit that has been sent to my doorstep. The one who’s in trouble, and not only from her injuries.
“Please. Don’t let him find me.”
Her soft-spoken words rattle through my mind again. The trace of fear that I’d heard. It was there. This girl is on the run.
“The doc?” I ask.
“He’s on his away,” she tells me, stepping up beside the bed.