Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83519 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83519 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
A shadow cast by the streetlight outside passes in front of the window, but it doesn’t alarm me. I know despite it being after two in the morning, crackheads keep irregular hours. It’s nothing new to see people wandering around at all times around shitty motels like this one.
It’s the attempted twist of the doorknob that makes me narrow my focus.
The click of the lock being disarmed sets my senses on fire, but I don’t budge. I’m always up for a challenge. How close can I let them get to me before I reach for my gun?
Will they be faster this time?
It thrills me to find out.
I turn irrationally angry, as the scent of her skin, the same spicy smell that invaded my nostrils in my truck, washes over me.
The woman has a lot of nerve and not nearly as much common fucking sense breaking into my room.
I don’t move a muscle as I anticipate her coming closer.
I don’t flinch when the bed dips and her weight settles on my lower body.
I don’t pull away when I feel the cool blade pressed to my throat.
She’s an FBI agent after all. Maybe she thinks she can arrest me, have me tried and convicted for the things I’ve done. There’s not much she can use against me as far as El Salvador is concerned. The red tape involved in extraditing criminals from foreign countries is usually a deterrent. It’s why I don’t usually take jobs in the United States. Not to mention the fact that everyone and their fucking mother has a phone with a camera these days. They’re more likely to record someone getting hurt or abducted than having the balls to step up and take actions. Americans live for that type of drama. It’s hard to stay out of trouble, under the radar, with everything getting uploaded and going viral on social media these days.
But I did sell one of the Cerberus members old ladies here in the US recently, and earlier tonight, I’d abducted a little girl from the hospital. Maybe Cerberus sent her to do their dirty work?
I ignore the thickening of my cock as best I can.
“Are you going to kill me, arrest me, or fuck me?”
She chuckles, the sound sinister as it floats around us.
“Do I get a choice?” I growl, wondering what it will take to force her hand into action.
The first time I saw Lauren Vos, she was getting pulled off the back of a covered truck along with a handful of other women. They were captives, women with dollar signs, things to purchase and sell.
I was working that job because I knew one of the buyers coming for them was the man who also had the woman I was hunting for. It was a means to an end.
Thumper was challenged by the man selling them to us. He was forced to prove he was a sadistic fuck, and he did so easily, bending her over a vehicle and fucking her for the guy to watch and record for his own boss.
I was disgusted, enraged, and even more demented, it fucking turned me on a little. The sound of her screams, her pleas for help, got me hard.
I tried to convince myself it wasn’t so bad after discovering they were both undercover FBI agents that had a sexually violent relationship years prior. That was back when I still took the time to justify my actions and reactions to certain shit.
The men who pulled me bleeding from that house in El Salvador beat that out of me.
With one hand gripping the knife at my throat, Lauren lifts just enough to slide her hand between us.
“Feel familiar?” she hisses, her hand stroking the thick length of me like she did in the hallway of that house years ago.
It is familiar. It does take me back.
“That’s it,” she whispers, her lips against my throat. “Come.”
I smile up at her, my eyes opening for the first time since she broke into this room. I can see the fear in her eyes, but I don’t give her time to prepare.
A pinch of pain at my throat drives me, gives me what I need to finally get my own fucking revenge. It clatters to the floor as wetness drips down my neck and I shove her back on the bed and pin her body under mine.
“Is this what you fucking want?” I hiss.
“No. Please don’t.”
A shadow of the man I was forces my hands off of her and I climb off the bed.
She scrambles to get away, but before she reaches the door, she looks back, the gleam of a grin on her face.
It’s the biggest mistake she ever could’ve made.
I’m on her in the next second, uncaring of the way her body crashes to the door.
The cops won’t be called. Crackheads don’t give a shit what’s going on next door. They mind their damned business because they want others to do the same.