Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 32402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 130(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 130(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Alexey Baranov should have died that night. Instead, a fearless woman stepped in and killed the son of a powerful mafia boss to protect him.
Now Vincent Morello wants Jane dead.
Alexey refuses to let that happen.
Jane has spent her whole life feeling unwanted, invisible, and forgotten. But with Alexey, she’s finally seen. Claimed. Protected.
And Alexey doesn’t give up what belongs to him.
Not even for a mafia war
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter One
“Shit, fuck, this is not good. Why did you do this, Jane? This is not clever of you. This is insane.” Jane Adams grunted as she started to pull the man toward her car. He let out a groan, and she growled. “Come on, I don’t know if there are going to be any more people looking for you.”
So, in the past thirty minutes, her life had gone from shit to fucking worse. All she had done was sit in her beat-up car as she attempted to deal with her boss’s ultimatum: she had to sleep with him or find another job.
“No offense, sweetheart, but not many people are going to be jumping for joy offering you a job. You’re not exactly easy on the eyes.”
His words, although cruel, didn’t hurt her. Not anymore. Growing up being a plain Jane, she was used to it. Men would look at her for a moment, but the instant a hot woman walked into the room, she was well and truly forgotten. Some might think it was cruel of them. She no longer cared.
Actually, she thought it was ironic seeing as she was also named “Jane” by the church where she had been dropped off when she was just a few days old. At least, that was what she assumed.
From the church, she was sent to foster care, and for the first eighteen years of her life, she got used to being overlooked. The parents that came to adopt kids were not looking for plain but extraordinary. She had gone from good foster homes to the worst kind, so tonight hadn’t exactly been a surprise to her—sitting in her car after losing her job, because she wasn’t about to fuck her boss to keep it. She had been punching out her steering wheel, when up ahead, a gunfight had broken out.
A car had been rammed, and then a couple of guys had gotten out, both dressed in suits. Armed with guns, they pointed them toward the man in the upturned car. One of the two was shot down.
Something in her gut told her to act. Maybe it was the boss pushing her into a corner, or the potential for the underdog, or she was just pissed off. Pressing on her accelerator, she literally ran the shooter down. To any other person, this might have been terrifying; however, this wasn’t the first time she had seen death. She pushed that to the back of her mind.
The guy in the car had managed to wriggle his way out, and she was pulling him into her car. His face was covered in blood. She refused to look at any of his tattoos or try to recognize him.
“Come on,” she said, growling, as she finally was able to drag his ass into the passenger seat of her car.
This was a big mistake. She had no idea who she had just killed. She had no way of knowing if someone else was on their way to rescue him or provide backup. She didn’t even know if the man now in her car was worth saving. Either way, they were questions that did not need answering. Not now, not ever. All she had to do was get him to safety, then get rid of him and hope for the best.
She pulled out onto the street, spinning her wheels, and then quickly made her way across the city to get to her shitty apartment. Well, it was shitty, but not the worst, so that was an improvement. Thankfully, the landlord of the building had just recently fixed the elevator.
The guy next to her groaned, but she ignored him and focused on driving, while also keeping an eye on everything around her to make sure they were not being followed. Her heart pounded and she felt sick to her stomach.
It was late, close to two in the morning, so most of the streets were empty. She passed a few seedy-looking people—some pimps doing deals, prostitutes selling their wares, drug deals. The usual kind of shit that happened in bad neighborhoods after dark.
Arriving at her apartment, she parked the car, got out, and started to help the man toward the building. Every now and then, she nearly dropped him, because he weighed a lot more than her. She nearly fell to the ground a few times.
By some miracle, she was able to get him inside the building, into the elevator, and then into her apartment. She was sweating by the time they got there, and she was also feeling a little sick. This was not good.
She was able to get him into her small kitchen and dining area. Now, she saw the blood on his face clearly, but there also appeared to be two potential gunshot wounds.
“Who are you?” he asked.
She looked at him and immediately looked away. “I’m no one. We’re not going to share names. We’re not going to know anything about each other. I don’t want to know what went down tonight. Tell me if you want me to just drop you off at the hospital.”