Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 104127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
“Careful, firefly,” I warn, never removing my eyes from hers.
Her small hands ball into fists. “Careful? What are you going to do?”
I move closer, ready to answer her question, when the fucking cop sidles up to her.
“Everything okay?” he says, pulling Sasha into his side as if he has the right.
That move will cost him his life. Painfully, too.
But how?
A good old fashion torture session could work. Maybe I’ll even get creative?
“Yes. Matt. Mr. Byrne was just leaving.” She doesn’t even look at him, her glare pointed directly at me.
“You do know who I am,” I retort, and she practically snarls at me.
“Leave.” The douche’s arm tightens around her.
Acid?
Drowning?
“It’s time to go,” he says with as much bravado as he can muster.
I laugh because it’s a pathetic fucking try. We both know I could kill him with my bare hands. Add strangulation to the list. “I’ll go when I’m fucking ready to go.”
Matt steps forward, and Sasha jumps in front of him, placing her hands on his chest. The move only works to piss me off more. Buried alive? That could work.
“Matt, let’s go. I can’t do this today.” She sighs heavily. “He’s not worth it.”
Matt looks down at her, his features softening. He’s in love with her.
With a simple nod, he grabs her hand and pulls her away. Neither of them looks back at me as they leave. I watch their retreat, recognizing the signs that Sasha doesn’t feel the same way, and a bit of tension rushes from my body. Just a small amount, though, because that fucker disrespected me and touched what doesn’t belong to him.
He’s still touching her.
Yep, Matt needs to die.
And Sasha…
Well, she needs to learn a lesson.
No one walks away from me.
4
SASHA
Two days have gone by since the funeral, and despite what Lucinda, my boss at the diner, offered, I didn’t take any time off.
I can’t afford to miss work.
I’m so close to my goals, and I can’t fall backward now.
So here I am, walking home from a long day on my feet, desperate to lie down, get out of my tight leggings, and throw on an oversized sweatsuit or pj’s. I feel disgusting from all the beverages spilled on me and the plate of food the runner dropped in my lap—while I was on break, no less.
Today is hotter than normal, so I’m sweaty, which only adds to the level of grossness I’m feeling.
A shower is definitely needed.
I speed up, eager to get home. I’m about a block from my apartment when I hear the thump of a heavy pair of shoes. Halting, I peer over my shoulder.
Nothing.
No one is even behind me. I’m totally hearing things.
It must be that I’m tired and overworked.
Yep. That’s it.
I’m not being followed.
First, I thought I saw someone outside my window the other day, and now I’m hearing phantom footsteps.
This isn’t a teen show on CW, Sasha.
No monsters are lurking in the corners, ready to end your life.
I groan, head falling back on my shoulders. “Pull yourself together.”
I’m losing my damn mind. I’ve been out of sorts for weeks, but even more so after the run-in with Gideon Byrne. He wasn’t what I expected at all. Not that I’d know what a drug lord looks like, but I didn’t anticipate refined and handsome beyond measure.
It’s not okay.
He’s an Adonis. A god amongst men. Too attractive for his own good and mine.
His unruly brown hair makes me want to run my fingers through the strands, but his eyes, stormy blue and almost glacial, have me rendered useless.
He knocked me off guard.
I’m not even sure how I strung together words that made sense when I demanded he leave and hurled insults at him.
I also didn’t expect him to just take it like he did. Isn’t a drug lord supposed to be brutal? I’m sure other people have been cut down on the spot for saying less to him. So why did he take it from me?
You were at a funeral in a room full of people.
With a shake of the head, I continue toward my apartment, where, once again, the main door is not locked. Apparently, for the price I pay in rent, safety isn’t the landlord’s concern.
Normally, I’m not as bothered by this, but seeing as I just recently had a run-in with a drug lord…I’m concerned.
It’s that vile man and the thought of him that has me on edge.
Gideon Byrne is not worth it.
Pushing all thoughts out of my mind, I step inside, making my way to my home.
I should count myself lucky I even have a place and that it’s relatively clean and safe around here. It’s actually a steal, seeing as I’m in the city. I got lucky, as I sublet it from my boss. It’s yet another reason Lucinda doesn’t understand why I work so much.