Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
An unsteady thudding rhythm starts up on the boardwalk behind me, slow and lurching. Billy is coming after me.
Terror grips my chest in a vise, but I force myself to keep breathing as I launch myself up the porch steps. I slam into the front door and grab the knob.
It doesn’t turn.
Locked.
Adrenaline floods my system, and my hands shake as I twist the knob harder, but within a few racing heartbeats, I have to accept that I’m not getting inside. I can’t linger here, or Billy will catch me in less than a minute.
I whirl, and I see that he’s halfway along the boardwalk, limping toward me.
“Come back here, you fucking cunt!” he roars.
I dart off the porch and circle the house, losing sight of Billy. A manicured lawn stretches out behind the mansion, surrounding a massive pool. There’s a small shed beside it, but I immediately dismiss it as a hiding place: too obvious.
Increasing my speed, I sprint for the tree line. Briars tear at my ankles, and small, errant rocks bruise the soles of my bare feet, but I don’t slow my frantic pace. I tear through the woods, winding my way around the massive tree trunks in an erratic path. I can’t risk straying too close to the open drive, so I plunge deeper into the woods.
I hear Billy crashing through the brush behind me, and I swallow a terrified cry. I’m making too much noise as it is.
“Where are you, bitch?” he bellows, but he’s farther away this time. “What did you do to my brother?”
I sprint deeper into the wilderness, ignoring the stinging pain on my legs where the underbrush cuts at me.
My lungs burn, but I can’t slow down. I can’t stop running.
After a while, I can’t hear Billy at all anymore, but the absence of sound only fuels my terror. I can’t get a read on where he is, and my fear response rides me hard. Pure panic rakes at my racing heart.
“Abigail!”
A harsh sob tears from my chest at Dane’s distant roar.
He’s here. He came for me.
I turn toward the sound of his voice, but I don’t dare to call out to him in case Billy hears and gets to me first.
“Abigail!” he thunders, closer now.
I fling myself toward him, hurtling through the woods toward salvation.
My dark god appears, tearing through the brush to get to me. I throw myself at him, and his strong arms close around me, catching me in his protective embrace.
I immediately try to pull away, grabbing at his hand in an effort to drag him to safety along with me. He’s as immovable as a granite statue, but his touch is achingly gentle as he cups my cheek and turns my face to inspect me for signs of injury.
“We have to run,” I wheeze. “He’s coming.”
Dane’s muscles bulge and flex around me. “Who?”
“Ron’s brother,” I manage to gasp. “He’ll kill you if he catches us.”
I can’t let Billy hurt my husband.
Dane scowls, but he doesn’t seem alarmed at the threat.
“I’m getting you out of here,” he growls. “Then I’ll deal with him.”
Now that I’ve stopped running, my legs shake, and all the strength drains from my body. Dane catches me and lifts me up in his arms, holding me close to his chest. He strides through the woods with long, swift strides, carrying me to safety.
12
DANE
If it weren’t for my years of medical training, my hands would be shaking with the barely suppressed violent impulses that churn through me. But Abigail is injured, and she needs my help.
The long, thin cuts that mar her calves ooze beads of blood, already clotting. It took half an hour to get her out of the woods and then another twenty minutes to drive back to our house. We’ve only just made it into the bathroom so that I can retrieve my first aid kit from beneath the sink.
Residual terror clings to my psyche, sharpening all of my senses so that her blood is a shocking crimson against her porcelain skin.
When she’d called me, all I’d heard was her muffled cry and a man’s rumbling voice. The abject horror of knowing my little dove was in danger but out of my reach had been nearly debilitating. I’d stormed out of the clinic with a barked explanation at Meadows, and every second it’d taken me to get to her had felt like an agonizing eternity.
She’s safely in my hands now, but she’s not unharmed. My brave Abigail suppresses a wince as I gently clean her cuts, but I know it must sting despite my careful treatment.
Even the flicker of discomfort that pinches her lovely features is enough to draw a growl from my chest.
“I’m okay,” she promises shakily, as though I’m the one who needs comforting. Her trembling fingers trail through my hair. “I’m safe.”