Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
There were rare occasions like now, when one of the men got a little too excited or downright rude. This man, hanging upside down, was rude. The woman he was with was in the hospital. He’d beaten her badly. Her face was messed up, and she had several broken bones as well. To Carson, that was unacceptable. Usually he allowed his men to take care of the problem, but after going to see the woman in the hospital, he knew this was his area of expertise.
He removed his jacket, placed it in Peter’s capable hands, and then turned toward the man who’d pissed him off. Today he intended to spend the day with Willow. It was going to be a surprise. He’d be her little shop assistant. Not that he had any interest in helping run a fabric shop, but if it meant spending the whole day with her, he’d gladly do it. Instead, he got the call before he could announce his surprise to his woman. Now, he was pissed.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. She was asking for it. She begged me to hit her.”
Carson tutted. “Do you not realize you were filmed the whole time. She begged you to stop.”
The guy who was supposed to be keeping an eye on the cameras had also met an untimely end. He didn’t like men who shirked their responsibilities. If he’d not stepped out for a smoke, a long-ass fucking smoke, the woman would have been rescued sooner. As it was, the beating took ten minutes, the time it took for the man to leave, smoke, take a piss, and then return to his job. The damage had been done.
The man screamed. “Why does it fucking matter? She’s a slut. She doesn’t deserve this. I paid her. She should learn to shut her fucking yap.”
Carson had always been a fighter. It was in his nature to strike back. He didn’t know the woman personally, had no interest in knowing her personally. He’d seen the footage, and while she’d begged and tried to escape, this piece of shit wouldn’t let her go, and now, as his punishment, Carson wouldn’t let him go.
He wanted to use his fists, to pummel his flesh until he bruised, bled, then died. But if he did that, he’d cut his knuckles. Fighting for as long as he had, he knew the consequences and wasn’t willing to pay them.
So, one of his men handed him a bat. It was thick, wooden, and would get the job done. He swung, hitting the man. It wasn’t long, maybe the second swing, when he started to scream and beg for mercy. Carson didn’t stop.
There was a reason he was fucking king, the boss of this city. He ruled it with an iron fist. No one crossed him. No one hurt his property or damaged it.
By the time he was finished, the man stopped screaming, but Carson had made a fucking mess of his suit. There was blood all over it.
Dropping the bat into the pool of blood, he stepped back and told his men to take care of it. Peter waited with his jacket, but he wasn’t going to wear that over a bloody shirt. The piece of shit had ruined his clothing.
Peter left to go to the car, returning minutes later with a clean one. Carson stripped down, tossing his clothing into the puddle. Everything would be taken care of. Just like the woman in the hospital. He’d settled her medical bills and paid the necessary compensation to her, so she wouldn’t have to worry about work for several months. Long enough to recover.
He’d already found someone else to watch the security footage for all incidents. No one would mess with his property.
Back in his car, he pulled out his cell phone, pulled up the direct link he had to Willow’s shop, and then continued to watch as Peter drove him across the city, back toward her shop.
When they arrived, it was very busy. He saw a couple of sale signs on the inside windows, stating there was a percentage off. He didn’t wait for Peter to open his door. He climbed out and made his way into the shop to see Willow at the cutting table.
Carson was used to the attention. All gazes turned toward him, and he smiled as Willow finally lifted her head. She was one of the last women to do so, but he’d forgive her. She was incredibly busy.
“Morning, beautiful.” It had only taken him two hours to deal with work, and now he could bask in all things Willow. The scent of coconuts was driving him crazy.
“Have you brought more food?”
“Not yet, but I figured you’d prefer to eat your food at lunchtime.”
“Ah, so what are you doing here?” Willow asked.
He didn’t mind that women were watching. “I thought you could use a hand.”