Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 148184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Kai exhales loudly through his mouth, his bleeding nose not allowing him to breathe properly. I shove him to the ground and step over his body. At the bar in the corner, I grab the ice bucket and thrust my fist inside.
The chill takes some of the ache out of my knuckles, and I turn to face Kai again. He’s dragged himself off the floor and reset his nose. I throw some ice cubes in a rag and hand them to him. Without a word, he presses the cold compress to his face.
This is not the man I’m supposed to be. I’m not my father, who used violence to calm himself. Sure, I like pain, but not to deliver it. Not unless it’s righteous justice. And Kai would cut off a limb before he betrayed me.
I throw myself in one of the chairs and study the frozen picture of her leaving on the screen. “I need her back,” I whisper.
Then I look at him, my second-in-command, and let him see the sheen of tears in my eyes. “Without her, the world will burn, and me along with it. I won’t live without her. Even if she did walk away from me, I’ll lock her in our bedroom after dragging her back, kicking and screaming, and that will be our lives. She promised me everything the day we got married, and I intend to make sure she makes good on that vow.”
Kai rights the chair we threw over and sits beside me. “We’ll find her. I promise, no matter what, we’ll find her.”
In my mind, no matter what means dead or alive. Which is another outcome I haven’t allowed myself to consider. What if she’s already dead, and that’s the reason there hasn’t been any sign of her?
The list of people who would love to see her bleeding out is short. Sal’s family comes to mind immediately, and maybe her father. Would he rather see his little girl dead than married to me?
Probably, but if he’s taken her from me, I’ll make what I did to Sal look like a fucking picnic before I finish with him. Either way, her father’s blood will be on my hands one day. It’s just a matter of sooner or later.
“Has her father made any moves?” I ask.
My knuckles are swollen and purple, but nothing is broken. I swivel the chair to get a look at Kai’s face. Nothing more than bruises now that he’s set the break.
Kai doesn’t say a thing about the beating I gave him. I don’t know if I’m ashamed or grateful. “Not that my men have told me. I’ll check in with them again. What now, Boss? Tell me what you need, and I’ll take care of it.”
I shove out of the chair and head toward the door. Only one thing will ease this void inside me. “I need her found, Kai. Now. Before I do something I can’t apologize for later.”
36
VALENTINA
The next day, I plan to check out of the motel and head to another one. At the very least, to try to cover my tracks. It’s midmorning, later than I want to leave, but I’ve been too afraid to walk out the door for fear of someone seeing me and reporting back to Adrian.
A knock on the door makes me freeze mid-motion while packing up my bag. I ignore the sharp knock and pray they go away. Maybe it’s housekeeping. Not that I’ve seen much of that since checking into this dump.
I gently shove the extra shirt I’m holding into the bag, straining to listen at the door. Another sharp knock makes me jump. This time, though, I drop my belongings, grab the gun, and shove it into the back of my pants. It’s dangerous, but it’s not like she’d given me a holster along with the weapon.
My phone vibrates, and I snatch it up. It’s from Cook, who tells me to open the door.
I breathe out in relief, my shoulders relaxing. Thank goodness. I feared I might actually have to shoot someone there for a second. And I still don’t know if I have the balls to do it.
Was that what I found so attractive about Adrian? He’s never afraid to do the hard things…especially when it comes to keeping me safe.
I unlock the door, working my way from the chain down to the deadbolt, and open it. But Cook’s not standing on the other side. It’s my father.
His hair is whiter and shorter, slicked back away from his face. It also looks like he’s lost some weight. Overall, he just seems old. Older than I remember when we went to the season-opening ball all those months ago.
“What are you doing here?” I stammer, still shocked at his presence.
He shoves me aside to enter my room, scowling at the surroundings. “Hopefully not catching hepatitis,” he sneers, then turns to me. “Shut the door, or anyone might see us talking and come after you, dear.”