Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
I look up and see three guns pointed down at us. The men are all impeccably dressed in suits. Who wears suits and packs rifles like they’re sporting? It’s like something out of a damn Al Paccino movie. That’s not what chills me though. It’s the man standing directly across from me. His face is scarred, obviously from a fire. He’s wearing a patch over one of his eyes and the scars are so thick there are ridges on his skin. He’s wearing a suit too, but his hands are as pink as his face, telling me the scars are just as deep on at least some of the rest of his body.
How does a man survive a fire like that?
The thing that scares me the most, though, is that he’s holding Harley by the neck, and there’s a pistol pointed at his head.
“My bride, finally I have you.” The man smiles and my heart flips in my chest.
Oh shit.
Cherry grabs my hair and yanks it, pulling me to the side as she gets up. She stands up and kicks the shit out of my stomach. I curl from the pain. Even though the chance is miniscule, I pray that I’m not pregnant.
“Bitch,” she says and spits on me. I hear Harley cry and I try to open my eyes, afraid they will hurt him.
“I told you I would get her, Alvaro. All it took was bringing the kid and she followed like a dog. She thought she was being so quiet. I had to stop several times just so she’d catch up with us.”
Well, shit… so much for thinking I was being all stealthy.
“You done well,” he says and his voice is so cold. He’s not even talking to me this time, but it still chills me just the same.
“Good. Now did you bring the car and the money, like we agreed?” she asks.
“I have everything ready for you,” he agrees and I see his face. I’ve seen evil before in my father, but this man makes my father look like a pussycat. I don’t think Cherry realizes what’s going on, but I see it from a mile off.
“Good. If it’s all the same to you, I want out of here before Marcum and his men show up for her or the kid.”
“Cherry, are you… you’re taking me? We can’t leave Toi…” Harley cries, his body shaking in the man’s arms.
“Give me my son, please?” I ask the man reaching for the little boy. He looks down at Harley and then at me. His face tilts and I get the feeling he’s testing me, measuring me. I don’t care. I just need to get Harley. I need him in my arms, but more importantly—I need to try and shield him. “If you give him to me, I’ll do anything you ask, please. Just let me hold him,” I beg.
“Interesting. The child is not yours and yet you claim him?”
“I do. I love him.”
My words seem to shock him. For whatever reason, he shoves Harley toward me. I catch him in my arms and he cries harder, but he hugs me tight.
“Sorry, kid. You’ll learn, though. It’s a tough world and people like you and me, all we have to depend on is ourselves,” Cherry says, and for a minute I think I see regret in her eyes.
“You used me,” Harley says. His little body is still shaking, but his tears slowing down, and he’s still holding to me tightly. “You used me to get Toi,” he says, shuddering, but proving he’s as smart as Marcum when it counts. He’s definitely Marcum’s child. I need to make Marcum believe that if I get the chance. I look at the gun the scarred man is holding and I can’t help but think that it’s not going to happen.
Cherry looks at Harley and it’s definitely regret I see on her face now, but she turns away, refusing to look at the little boy she’s leaving behind—probably to die.
“I need my shit so I can go,” she growls.
I see the man raise his pistol and I pull Harley deep into me, drawing his head to my chest to shield him.
“Don’t look, Harley. Don’t move,” I urge him quietly in his ear. He knows, God bless him, he knows though because he’s crying again and his body is shivering so hard, it’s shaking me.
“I’ve got exactly what you deserve,” the man says, and he shoots her.
“But…” Cherry cries and falls down on the ground. He shot her in the shoulder. I’d like to think it’s because he’s a bad shot, but I know better. He wants her to suffer. “Why?” she cries.
“Because you’re a viper and you spit on my property,” the man says as calmly as if he was talking about the weather. And then he unloads his gun—in her head.