Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“Good. Grace and Kristian are doing well. I’m tired as fuck, though.”
“Kristian. It’s a strong name. Congratulations, brother. Send me a photo of the little one.”
“Thanks.” He pauses for a moment. “Listen, I didn’t want to do this over the phone, but will you be my son’s godfather?”
A smile splits over my face. “I knew you loved me.”
“Yeah-yeah,” he mutters.
“Of course. I’d be honored,” I reply to his question, my eyes still locked on the woman. “I have some good news.”
“Yeah? You finally done taking down the Rojas Cartel?”
“Not yet.” My smile widens. “I found my woman.”
“Oh. Who is she?”
My gaze drifts over her. She looks vulnerable as fuck beneath the white sheet. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?” Dominik barks in my ear.
“I found her in a field, running for her life. She hasn’t come to, yet.”
“So you know nothing about her? Are you fucking insane?”
“Maybe, but that doesn’t matter.” I chuckle, and when I speak again, my voice is filled with amazement. “She’s fucking beautiful.”
“Be careful, Santiago,” he warns me.
“Don’t worry about me.”
“Someone has to worry about your crazy ass,” he grumbles. “I have to go. Grace is waking up.”
“Give her a hug from me,” I taunt him because he’s so fucking possessive over his woman.
“Not a chance in hell.”
Ending the call, I let out a soft burst of laughter while shaking my head.
Just as I tuck the phone back into my pocket, the woman lets out a soft groan and turns her head to the side.
I move closer and watch as her eyes flutter open, but it’s only for a couple of seconds before she passes out again.
CIARA
Prying my eyes open, my sight focuses on the white ceiling above me.
Horrific memories knock the air from my lungs, and for a moment, I struggle to suck in a breath of air. My heartbeat steadily increases until it’s thundering in my chest, then the smell of antiseptic liquid gets through to me.
Frowning because the air doesn’t smell dusty and stale, I begin to feel confused.
Am I not in the house?
Slowly, I turn my head to my right, but instead of seeing Nolan and the bedroom, I stare at a machine showing my blood pressure and heart rate.
Where am I?
I cautiously glance to my left, and my gaze freezes on a man. He looks relaxed in an armchair while he reads something on his phone. I can’t see much of his face, but then he lifts his head, and his attention focuses on me. His eyes are a mixture of brown and green, the ring around the irises the color of whiskey, and his hair dark brown and thick. He’s wearing tan-colored chinos and a dress shirt that’s untucked with the sleeves rolled up.
Who is he?
I begin to struggle into a sitting position, my gaze darting between the man and the door, which seems to lead to a hallway.
He doesn’t move but watches me like a hawk as he murmurs, “You’re safe.” His voice is deep and rich with an accent.
European or Latino?
I can’t tell.
The panic and desperation that have been my constant companions the past months shudder through me, and slowly shaking my head, my eyes remain glued to the man as I cautiously slide off the side of the bed. The moment my feet touch the floor, my eyes dart between the man and the doorway.
“You’re safe,” he repeats the words that mean nothing to me. “You’re at my clinic.” He gestures at me. “The IV isn’t done running its course yet.”
My head turns to the side, and seeing the IV stand, my eyes follow the tube to where it’s stuck into the back of my hand. Not thinking twice, I grab hold of it and yank the needle out of my skin.
Did he drug me?
I hear movement, and my head snaps up. Seeing the man, who’s easily twice my size, slowly walking toward me with his hands held in the universal gesture for ‘I come in peace,’ I take a step backward, my gaze darting to the doorway again.
He stops walking and shakes his head. “You’re safe here. I’m not going to hurt you.” He waits a few seconds before taking another cautious step toward me, and it makes my desperation morph into ice-cold fear.
For an intense moment, we’re caught in a stare-off, the silence stretching around us, and the antiseptic smell becoming overpowering.
A comforting smile begins to tug at his lips, and even though I’m out of it and scared shitless, I notice he’s very attractive. He’s bigger than Nolan and clearly stronger.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
I glance at the door again and clear my throat before I whisper, “Ciara.”
“And your last name?”
I shake my head, refusing to give him any more personal information. I don’t want anyone to find out about Grace.
“Okay,” he murmurs, his tone meant to be soothing, but it has the opposite effect on me.