Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 59044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
My hand shot out, scooping up the knife, and tucking it into the material of the towel in my hand.
I’d never had to do anything violent before.
But I knew down to my marrow that I could hurt someone if I needed to, if it came down to my life or theirs. Especially if the other life belonged to a stalker, kidnapping creep.
Gene pushed open the swinging door, and I walked into a slightly brighter room, thanks to some of the paper that was plastered on the windows of the bar had fallen down.
There would be people out there.
Within screaming distance, maybe.
But every girl knew better than to scream. People rarely ever came. Better to break away. To find someone and beg them for help.
“Well?” Gene asked, voice like a whip.
I guess I’d pissed him off by not immediately gushing about my fond memories of the place.
“Sorry, it’s so dark,” I said, slow blinking like I was trying to make my eyes adjust. “Oh!” I gasped, turning in a slow circle.
There was a hint of familiarity.
I’d been here at some point.
But the way the memory was so fuzzy made me think that it was only for a moment, that I hadn’t chosen this location, that I’d been made to stop in for some reason.
I mean… I wasn’t exactly a dive bar kind of girl.
Think.
I had to think.
I’d clearly been here with Gene.
But… why?
“Your birthday,” I said, saying a silent prayer of gratitude for the last second memory. “We came here for your birthday.”
It had been such an unexpected request that I’d felt like I couldn’t say no. Not on a man’s birthday. He’d just wanted to drop in to have a drink with his father.
Who… who owned it.
Right.
That was it.
This was his family bar.
“What happened to it?” I asked, eyes going big and round again. “It was such a great place.”
“It was,” Gene said, nodding, gaze far away. “Dad died. And the bank… well… they didn’t want to work with me on a plan to take it over.”
Meaning he was broke and likely didn’t have great credit.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked. “I could have helped you! I mean, if it’s not too late, we could still bring it back to its glory,” I insisted.
Something I said right then was wrong, though.
I could feel it like a cool breeze suddenly in the air, chilling me all the more.
His eyes slitted.
His jaw went tense.
“I don’t want your money,” he hissed.
“No, not like that,” I rushed to assure him. “I meant, you know, that we could invest in it. For our future.”
Something had changed in him, though.
I’d screwed up.
And each time I spoke, I seemed to make him all the more angry.
“You think you can bullshit me?” he roared, turning on me.
“What? No. I—“
“I’m not fucking stupid. I know when you’re being fake,” he told me. “You’re playing with me.”
“I wouldn’t—“ I started, but he was rushing toward me.
“I’ll make you pay for it,” he promised.
I didn’t stop to think.
I didn’t even really… aim.
I just held the knife tightly, and started jabbing with everything in me.
I didn’t stop.
Not even when the front door flew open.
And Julian rushed inside.
“Motherfucker,” Julian roared, rushing forward, grabbing the back of Gene’s neck, and yanking his whole body away.
The movement made the knife slide back out of Gene’s flesh again, and I looked down to see the bright red blood covering my hand.
Shocked by it on me, on the blade, I dropped the knife, hearing it clatter even as the noise of Julian and Gene’s fight intensified.
“Scarlet!” another voice yelled, making me look up to see my father standing in the doorway, the light streaming around his body.
He was in front of me a second later, reaching for my face.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Is that… is that your blood?” he asked, eyes huge, skin going white.
“No,” I said, shaking my head, feeling oddly numb now that it was all but over.
“We’re going to get you out of here,” my father assured me, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “Julian, enough!” he barked, making me jump. “The police are here. You can’t kill him,” he insisted.
But Julian just kept slamming Gene’s head into the wall.
It wasn’t until I spoke that he froze.
“I knew you would save me,” I said.
Then I watched as he turned, all the rage washing out of him like a wave pulling back as he released Gene to rush toward me.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
He didn’t wait for an answer, though, just ran his hands all over me, looking for injuries.
“I’m okay,” I said, but my gaze was on my bloody hand.
His own went downward, and a small smile tugged at his lips.
“Looks like you saved yourself, pet,” he said, voice soft.
It was the name that had me falling forward into him, my legs seeming to lose all their strength in an instant.