Total pages in book: 227
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
“One swing. One swipe. One . . . chop.”
“Fuck you!” she screams in his face. And my husband? He smiles, lighting up and blowing the smoke in Anya’s face. She coughs. He takes another drag. Blows that in her face too.
“You know what upsets me most in this world, Anya?” he asks. “Pass? Okay, let me tell you.” He dips, clearing his throat. “When my wife is upset. And she’s upset now because you have upset her.” He smirks. Deadly. “And you know what I love most about my wife? Pass again? Okay, I’ll tell you. She’s a lioness, and you, you stupid, deluded fuck, dared bring our kids into your silly mess. A token? A pawn to earn you a pat on the back? No. Bad move.” He stands up straight. “So now my wife will kill you.” Then lowers back to the desk. Looks at me. Nods. And without much thought at all—because I know The Brit wouldn’t kill a woman—I aim and fire, doing the job for him. And I hit her straight between the eyes.
Her head drops back, her mouth falls open, and blood sprays the air.
Done.
“Your aim’s improving, baby,” Danny muses, satisfied.
I go to him, hold out the gun, and he takes the end, using it to pull me closer to him, getting my face close to his. He scans my eyes. “When I tell you to jump in future, you’re going to ask me how high.” The swirl of anger in his gaze is very real. The threat.
“Never,” I retort calmly, pulling my grasp off the gun and leaving his office to find my daughter, call my son, and get back to being a mother.
58
BRAD
* * *
I stare at her closed eyes, willing them to open, as Doc quietly moves around the bed and the machinery. Her heartbeat is stable. Good. That’s what Doc keeps telling me. Her blood pressure satisfactory, her blood loss not worrying. But her brain? He can’t see that, so Doc has advised us to allow a specialist to come and assess her. It’s only been an hour, if that, since we returned to the house and found all hell had broken loose, but Doc’s not taking any chances. And I’m fine with that. Anything. Losing her isn’t an option.
Doc was a gentleman while I cut Pearl’s clothes off her broken body so he could see exactly what he’s dealing with, turning his back. I honestly couldn’t have cared less what he saw. I was too worried. Endless grazes. A few cuts, one particularly bad one on her thigh. I know all the sweet spots. It’s not far from a main artery. Her arm is broken. Maybe a few ribs.
I sat there and listened to him detail the damage, and with each injury to her delicate body he listed, I felt my blood boil that little bit more. I don’t know the exact details of what’s happened yet. I’m almost scared to find out.
I flex my neck, and it clicks, sending a shockwave into my skull. It’s an effort to breathe easy, to not feel like I’m constantly out of breath. All the air in my lungs is draining, and the longer she remains unconscious, it’s getting worse. As is the anger.
I cup one of her limp, dainty hands in both of mine and lay my head on them, taking a moment to rest my eyes. “You have to wake up,” I whisper. “That’s an order.”
Red.
The day you need me to tell you that I love you is the day I stop showing you well enough.
Red.
And then as if the universe thinks now is the perfect time, the red merges into Nolan. My son. One love of my life lying lifeless on the bed, the other . . . where?
I sit up and check my phone again. Nothing from Otto. I curse under my breath and go back to Pearl, feeling so fucking useless. I need to be out there getting my son back. Tearing the bastard that sold Pearl limb from limb. But even in my unbalanced state, I appreciate no move should be made until we have all the facts. All the information. Everything in place. We’ve cleared the boatyard. The club. The only place we are all permitted to be is here, at the house, and that is only because Otto has been through the fucking place with a fine-toothed comb to check for bombs and bugs. Our safe haven. Infiltrated.
Anya?
“Brad?”
I cast a heavy gaze toward the end of the bed where Doc is standing. “Yeah?” My voice is cracked. Broken. A lot like my body and my heart.
“I’ll leave you for a few moments. I should check on Ella again, and Danny wants me to check Maggie over.”
“What’s wrong with Maggie?”
Doc shakes his head, looking troubled. “Anya tried to take her.”