Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 134663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Danny turns and walks us out of his office, his palm on the back of my head directing it to rest on his shoulder. No one has held me like this before. Like I’m the beginning and the end of the world for them. My mind is somewhat fuzzy with alcohol, but I will remember this moment, crystal clear, for as long as I live. It’s a whole new world for me.
The sound of the front door opening up ahead doesn’t prompt me to lift my head and look. I’m too calm. Settled. Heavy with drunkenness, but at peace with myself and the decision I have made. I choose him.
Danny stops, and I hear Brad. “She’s still here?” There’s no mistaking the shock in his voice.
“She didn’t tip anyone off.”
“But—”
“It wasn’t her,” Danny grates, his voice quiet but lethal. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
“What the hell am I supposed to tell the Russians until then?”
“Tell them I’m busy. We’ll rearrange,” he calls as he takes us up the stairs. I smile sleepily into his shoulder, using what energy I have left to hold him tighter. I don’t open my eyes until he’s laid me on the bed. Quietly and slowly, he strips me out of the red dress and then rips it apart at the seams, throwing it aside and crawling into bed with me. I’m pushed onto my side, he curls his body around mine, and tugs me back into his warmth. “No one has stood in your shoes before,” he murmurs once he’s settled around me. “No one has experienced me like you’re experiencing me. No one has seen what you’re seeing. No one has felt what you’re feeling. No one has touched what you’re touching.” He kisses the back of my head gently. “I’m yours, baby. All yours.” Warm breath coats my hair and spreads across every inch of my skin. “I love you. Because no one has ever loved me like you do.”
When I wake, I momentarily panic that I dreamed everything. It’s like Danny knew that might happen, so he’s placed himself right in front of me to make sure he’s the first thing I see when my eyes open. Bright, sleepy blues meet mine, his head on my pillow, the tip of his nose brushing mine. His breath is my breath. As every second of last night trickles into my brain, reminding me of where we’re at, I sigh, each minute of my memory enhancing the peace. I reach for his face, framing his scarred cheek with my palm as my eyes dance across his beauty. This wicked, brutal killer is mine. I bite my lip as a soft smile creeps up on me, and he takes my hand from his face, kissing the tip of each finger.
“Come here,” he orders, rolling to his back. I crawl my way onto his front and spread myself the length of him, my face finding his neck. He smells like man and freedom. He smells like he’s mine.
“I love you,” I mumble, nuzzling deeper into him, relishing the feel of his dangerous, rough hands working across my back.
“Are you still drunk?”
I nudge him and let the sound of his soft laugh wash over me. “Are you?” I’m moving, being pushed to my back, swapping positions with Danny. Framing my head with his strong, hard arms, he kisses me. “Only on you,” he whispers, and for the first time in my life, I swoon. Danny Black made me swoon. The merciless, cold-hearted killer made me swoon. “We need to talk,” he says around a nibble of my ear.
I fold, knowing it was coming and is needed, but expecting something doesn’t make it any easier to tackle. “I don’t know where to start,” I admit, feeling his soft, chaste pecks of my neck easing me into a needed sense of security.
“Start from the beginning.” He goes to pull out of my neck, but my hand on the back of his head pushes him down again.
“Stay there,” I order quietly, needing him all over me, reminding me of why I’m doing this. Reminding me of why I’ve chosen this road. He returns to kissing my neck, each compression of his lips to my flesh injecting me with the strength I need to share my miserable story. “My parents died in a car accident when I was nine. My father was drunk. So was my mother.” I close my eyes and zone out, forcing the memories back but bringing the words I need forward, reciting them robotically. “I had no other family so was fed into the foster care system. Three foster parents tried and failed to bring me under control. I was too angry at my parents for being so careless with their lives and leaving me all alone.” Danny’s lips falter for a split second, before he continues dotting my skin with his lips, weaving his fingers into my hair. As if his kisses have the power to heal. “I was teased at school. My pain wasn’t my own. Everyone else seemed to control it—my mother and father for dying, the bullies for enhancing it. I started cutting myself because that pain I could control.” My voice remains even and strong, but my grief returns, as strong as it was back then. “I was put in a children’s home. The bullying went on and I continued to hurt myself. Every time someone was cruel to me, I cut myself. They put me in therapy. I did one session and ran away.” I take a breath. I’ve never told this story. Ever. “A man found me in a homeless center where I used to go every Sunday to get hot soup. He was kind to me. Put me in a hostel with a dozen other young girls. Some were pregnant. Young girls who’d gotten themselves into trouble and had run away from home. Or so I thought.” Danny’s mouth stops again, and this time his body stiffens above mine. I smile sadly to myself, because he already knows what’s coming. I should have realized back then, but I was young, naïve, and desperate. “The first week was fine. All hot meals, clean clothes, care, and attention. Then the men started coming. The first time I was raped, I just lay there, frozen. It was like an out-of-body experience. I remember telling myself that if I shut down, it wouldn’t hurt so much. Just like I did when the kids at school teased me for being an orphan. That it would be over quicker if I didn’t resist. I was pregnant by fourteen.” Danny’s on his way out of my neck again, and this time he doesn’t let me stop him. His face is expressionless, though he can’t hide the swirl of anger gaining momentum in his shrewd eyes. “It was a blessing and a curse,” I continue quietly. “The men who came to the hostel didn’t want the pregnant girls. I was left alone. Then one day I watched one of the other girls give birth to a little girl. I watched them pull it from her womb and take it away. A month later, she was back in the game. I realized then that the only thing I had that I loved was growing inside of me and the second it took its first breath, it would be taken. I didn’t want to lose all over again. So I ran.”