Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Everything was getting a little slow, a little thick. My thoughts, my breathing, my awareness of time.
He was cutting off my air.
I was going to pass out.
No.
No, I couldn’t pass out.
My mind flashed back to one particular move from that self-defense class.
I lifted my arms, clasping them together, then bringing down my forearm on the inward bend of his elbow, knocking his grip loose.
It was right then that I heard it.
The bleep of the elevator.
Someone was coming.
And given the time of the night, I knew who it was.
Marshall. The friendly neighborhood heroin dealer. Done with his time spent working the streets.
We weren’t exactly on neighborly terms.
But he was a massive wall of a man.
And he was nearby.
So I did the only thing I had left to do, given that I was out matched with Josh.
I sucked in a breath that burned and I screamed as I yanked open the door.
There he was.
A giant who looked tired and taken aback at what he saw.
“The fuck?” he asked, taking a step forward.
But before he could do anything, Josh decided to cut his losses, and rushed out from my apartment and down the hall.
“No, don’t,” I said, holding a hand to my throat that felt like I’d gargled glass from being choked.
“Why the fuck not?” he asked, shaking his head.
“You don’t want that kind of trouble.”
“Girl, have we met? I live for trouble.”
“Not that kind,” I assured him. “He’s the police commissioner’s son.”
“Aw shit,” he said, shoulders slumping.
“Yeah,” I agreed, nodding.
“You alright? You don’t look so hot.”
“I feel like shit,” I admitted. Adrenaline depleted, all the pain was assaulting me at once.
“You look it,” he agreed, nodding.
“Gee, thanks.”
“Being honest. That fucker going to come back? You want a weapon?”
“You have weapons?” I asked.
To that, he lifted his shirt, and there one was, tucked in his waistband.
“I don’t… I don’t even know how to shoot,” I admitted.
“You point, you pull the trigger, pretty simple shit. I got five more in my place. Let me bring you one. Hopefully, you won’t need it. But if someone is all up in your place and you need to, you’ll have it.”
I didn’t want to say yes.
I mean, even having possession of a gun that wasn’t registered to me was a crime. That said, I really didn’t like the feeling of being powerless against a bigger attacker.
“I would really appreciate that,” I said, nodding.
“Get some ice for your face. I’ll be right back,” he said, then disappeared down the hall.
I didn’t hesitate to take his advice. Especially given that my face felt like one giant, throbbing wound.
I had soft icepacks in my freezer. For Wren. For the many times I’d needed to give her one to ice her face.
She was also the reason I had a bag full of bruise-concealing makeup in the back of my closet. Stuff I would need to use to go to work the next day without every single person I encountered asking me what happened.
What the hell had happened to my life?
I’d been a nice, quiet, unassuming teacher once.
Now I was getting shot by the mafia and accepting hush money and beaten in my own home.
Tears stung my eyes and I blinked them stubbornly back as I heard Marshall’s heavy footsteps coming to my door. He’d stopped to knock before letting himself back in.
“Alright. Simple here. It’s loaded. So don’t fuck around with it,” he said, showing me the gun. “This is the safety. You gotta do this,” he said, demonstrating, “if you are going to shoot. Then that’s it. Not gonna give you extra bullets because I can’t imagine you’d need ‘em. Not for close range like with that fucker.”
“Thank you, Marshall. Really, I mean it.”
“It’s nothing. I got me a mom and a sis and a load of cousins. Wouldn’t want that shit happening to them either. Stay strapped and you stay safe. Also, gotta get some better locks for this door, yeah?” he asked, waving at it. “The chain and the knob lock ain’t gonna cut it.”
“First thing in the morning,” I assured him.
“Good. I’ll be up for a bit. If you even think he might be back, scream. I’ll hear you, even if I pass out. I sleep like a ma with a newborn. Fucking everything wakes me up.”
“You’re amazing. Thank you. I will find some way to repay you, I swear.”
“Next time you’re cooking something good up, drop a plate at my door. Haven’t had a home-cooked meal in years. Always take a deep breath when I walk past your place and something is cooking.”
“Absolutely. Every single time I cook,” I promised him.
To that, he gave me a nod as he started to close the door behind him. “Get some rest. You’ll feel like shit in the morning, but at least you won’t be tired.”
With that, he was gone.