Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 50080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
She already has a place in mind as things turn out, and I don't care if a train ride isn't what people would describe as blind-date-material. I've always thought 'normal' was overrated, and besides...
A little craziness has never hurt anyone, and even if she suddenly changes her mind and tells me she wants us to meet in Hell, I won't even think twice about trading places with the Devil.
This is the most I've felt alive in over a year, and it's this feeling that has me boarding the train even though it's still fifteen minutes to eight.
Are you here, Girl?
I have my answer when I spy in the corner of my eye someone entering Car #7 from another set of doors.
Exhilaration courses through my veins even though I know it would be smarter to keep my expectations to a minimum. It's always been all or nothing for me, and I've never needed time to think things over like others do.
One damn look is the only thing I need, and I'll know right away if "Girl" is someone I'd like to fuck and forget.
Just one damn look.
And when our gazes finally meet from opposite ends of the car—-
Well, well, well.
My lips slowly curve.
Hello, you.
But this only has her blinking at me like I should know better than to assume that her smiles come cheap.
Fine with me, darling.
Challenge accepted, and it's her virginal pussy that I'll claim as my reward.
The two of us remain in sync as we start walking towards our reserved seats, and I can tell by her unwavering gaze that she still sees me as a potential threat.
Fair enough.
I haven't taken my gaze off her either, but it's mostly because I fucking love what I'm seeing.
Kayra Petinos in the flesh, finally.
We come to a stop when we reach the table listed in our tickets, and since she's already staring at me with unabashed curiosity, who am I not to feast my eyes on her in return?
Her niece married a friend of mine early this year, but I already knew of her from way back. "Girl" here was only fifteen when she earned herself the title of Familia's most skilled tracker, and she officially reached 'urban legend' status after last year's Sandy Point Murders.
Dating a former suspect of the FBI has never been high on my priority list, and not even an attractive girl like Kayra made me feel any differently about it...then.
She's always been pretty, and always will be, with her copper-tinted tresses and Pacific-blue eyes, a sensual mouth with Cupid's bow lips, and a slender build that's so impressively fit and limber at the same time, you just know it can replicate every position in the Kama Fucking Sutra.
I'm not sure what it was about the phone call Thomas had orchestrated between us, but everything's changed since then, and I'm now seeing Kayra in a whole different light.
As appealing as her looks are, I only used to think of her as the girl who almost made it to FBI's Most Wanted, but now I know she's much, much more.
This Girl of mine is a killer with the soul of a warrior, a unique mixture of vulnerability and violence.
I look at Kayra, and all it still takes is one damn look.
Just one damn look, and I'm absolutely certain...I've found my future wife.
Chapter Three
EMULATE, NOT IMITATE.
It's a trick my half-sister taught me when we were young, and Brenda had to play warden every time Astro locks me in my room for not doing what's normal and acceptable.
You're a Petinos, Kayra.
Standing out will only get you killed.
Until you're strong enough to protect yourself, you need to pretend you're like the rest.
In those days, Astro couldn't understand why I was being rebellious for no seeming reason, and neither did I.
My father wanted me to show remorse because it was the normal thing to do—-but why must I feel bad about beating up a boy in my class, when that same boy was guilty for bullying another boy?
He wanted me to shed tears when a great-aunt of mine passed away, but why must I pretend to be sad, when the person who died used to call me a freak?
We fought, and we fought, and we fought, and Papa and I might have even ended up killing each other if not for my older half-sister coming up with a life-saving little trick.
Brenda was like my guardian angel on earth, and a living saint to everyone else. She wasn't that smart or pretty, but she was the kindest person I ever knew, and it was through her kindness that she realized I was not bad, but just different.
And she loved me despite of it.
Brenda loved me even when I was cold and mean. She loved me even when I kept pushing her away. My older sister loved me until the day she died, and by loving me she became my way out of the darkness.