Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
It took me a bit to take it from him. There had to be a catch. I brought up the phone screen.
He did nothing.
I pressed nine.
He did nothing.
I pressed one.
He did nothing.
After the last one, my thumb hovered over the call button.
He. Did. Nothing.
Tears flooded my eyes, spilling over, and racing down my cheeks. “Just tell me why you have them.” The 9-1-1 on the screen blurred behind my tears as my hands holding the phone shook.
No matter what my brain told me—and it screamed for me to call the police and run hard and fast—my heart loved him. It had the most irrational need to protect him. How could I feel the need to protect a man with an arsenal just feet below us?
As more hot tears burned my cheeks, I clenched my teeth with the same anger in which I squeezed the phone in my hands. “Why?” I said in something between a scream and a sob. “Why can you so fucking easily call the police because I was looking in your garage window, but I can’t bring myself to push the goddamn send button when you have enough weapons to annihilate a small village? WHY?” I sent the phone flying across the room and covered my face with my hands as the sobs overtook me.
Gentle hands slid into my hair as his warm lips pressed to the top of my head. “Because you’re infinitely a better person.”
“Tell me …” I cried. “You h-have to t-tell me …”
“I protect people.”
It took me several seconds to process his words. Slowly lifting my head, I aimed my teary-eyed gaze at him, wiping my cheeks. “Like a bodyguard?”
Taking my face in his hands, he rubbed his thumbs under my eyes. “If you think of body as something larger, like a population, then sure. I’m a bodyguard.”
“I don’t understand.” I pushed out of his hold, taking a step backward. “You … you have to just say it. Are you a bad person?” I pressed my lips together to hold in more impending sobs, and I shook my head over and over. “Please tell me I didn’t fall in love with a terrible human,” I whispered.
He narrowed his eyes, the muscles in his jaw ticking for several seconds before he swallowed. “I do bad things to terrible people.”
“Why?” I muttered, wiping more tears before crossing my arms over my chest.
“So that defenseless college girls don’t get raped behind dumpsters.”
The vigilante card again.
“Is this a pastime? A calling like you’re the only one who can lift the hammer from the ground?”
“It’s a job.”
“A paying job?”
He nodded.
“Who’s your boss?”
“I can’t say.”
“So you … you’re … what? An assassin?” I laughed a little because it was ridiculous.
“Yes.”
My lips parted, muscles paralyzed as I waited for a “just kidding” or something more than a yes.
“No …” My head began to twist side to side and it didn’t stop. Turning, I fisted my hair, head still shaking as I paced several feet toward the sofa and back again. “No. No. No. This isn’t … no. Not my life. I’m going to run for president. I can’t have ‘slept with an assassin’ on my record. No. And my dad … oh god …” My fingers curled, digging into my scalp, and yanking my hair harder as I closed my eyes and stilled my feet. “He’s going to lock me in my room forever.”
“I saved your life. He should feel pretty fucking indebted.”
My eyes shot open, and my head resumed its shaking. “No. You don’t know my dad. He’s not going to feel indebted to you. He’s going to suggest I send you a thank-you card and get the hell out of LA. I can’t do this. I have to go.” I ran up the stairs to get dressed.
“You’re a liability now.”
I paused my hands as they worked to hook my bra. Glancing over my shoulder at him, I squinted. “I’m not.”
“I’ve revealed myself to you. That definitely makes you a liability.”
Swallowing the thick sludge of unease in my throat, I finished hooking my bra and fumbled with my shirt to pull it over my head. “S-so … what are you saying?” I pulled my hair out of the shirt’s neck and grabbed my jeans, my hands working as fast as possible.
“I’m saying I’ll be gone within the hour.”
“Gone where? Why? I’m not turning you in, Wylder.” I grabbed my bag while shoving my bare feet into my sneakers.
“Just gone. Because I let you live.”
My frantic movements came to a crashing halt as my head snapped up to meet his gaze. “You let me live?”
“Protocol is to put you down.”
“P-put me down? Like a rabid animal? The fuck!? I’m not a terrible human. You said you do bad things to terrible humans to save lives. Killing me isn’t that.”
“If I go to prison, it leaves a gap to be filled. While that gap waits to be filled, innocent people are in danger. It’s a numbers thing, Liv. Sacrifice one to save a hundred.”