Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
The heavy sound of more footsteps snapped me to attention, and I sucked in a breath, wincing as I did so. Those weren’t expensive Italian loafers. The way they hit the ground wasn’t light and polished. There was an aggressiveness to it instead. One that had me moving back in search of a shadow to hide in. I should have gotten up and run when I had the chance. If breathing wasn’t so hard, I would have.
Please, God, if you’re there, don’t let that be someone Arun sent for me, I prayed silently.
A deep chuckle felt like a warm breath brushing over my skin, although it wasn’t anywhere near me. Not yet. But the sound was appealing, which made me a fool because it was masculine and I’d known nothing but pain from men. Starting with my father.
“Better be a damn good reason,” a voice drawled, causing me to shiver. “I need a goddamn break.”
“Oz said it’s a debt collection,” another male voice said.
“Why the fuck am I needed for that?”
“Hell if I know. Linc sent the order.”
“Fucker just wants to piss me off. I bet your dad wasn’t called,” the deeper voice said.
“Actually, he was.”
They were getting closer. Scanning the parking lot from where I’d been left behind a dumpster, I tried to scoot back closer to the wall so I’d be completely out of sight.
Closing my eyes, I took the deepest breath I could manage and held it before using my good hand to push my body. The stabbing pain that shot up my chest seized my lungs and a cry I was unable to stop broke free.
The footsteps stopped, and I froze. Had they heard me? Oh God. No. What would I do if they had? The men who frequented places like this were wealthy and powerful enough to be dangerous. Finding a beaten female lurking outside would anger them. It would disrupt their privacy.
I waited, listening for the men to start walking again. But they’d gone eerily silent. Maybe they’d walked the other way. A tear dropped onto my hand, and I stared down at it. My wrist was no longer recognizable. Although I hadn’t heard it break like I had my ribs, there was no doubt it was just as damaged.
The toe of a black combat boot appeared in front of me as if it had come out of thin air. Not a single sound betraying its arrival. If I could move, I’d put all those years of running around the perimeter of my father’s property to good use. But since I was battling for every ounce of oxygen I took in, that wasn’t going to happen. I was stuck.
“What the fuck?” the deep voice swore.
“Jesus,” the other man said in a harsh whisper. “Do you recognize her? Is she one of the dancers?”
The man closest to me bent down, and although I knew I should keep my gaze averted, it lifted to see who had found me. I wasn’t one to be affected by looks. I’d seen the ugly behind too many handsome faces. But this one…it wasn’t like any other I’d seen.
“No,” he said as he stared at me. “She’s not.”
His eyes drifted down my face to survey the rest of me, and when he saw my wrist that I was holding close to my chest, his nostrils flared. “Get the truck.” His words sounded like an order.
“Why?”
He leaned closer to me. “Anything else broken?” he asked, and I realized he was speaking to me.
I should say nothing. Remain mute, and maybe he would leave. But I nodded. “Yes,” I replied in a strangled whisper.
His jaw clenched. “Where?”
Tell him you’re fine. Send him on his way. Arun will kill them. Or have them killed.
“Ribs, I think,” I admitted.
“Who did this?” The ferocity in his tone made me jerk.
I shook my head and tried to move back on instinct, but all it did was make me whimper in my attempt.
“Fuck,” he muttered, then started to stand back up.
He was leaving. That was for the best. Even if I wanted to ask him not to. I didn’t know the man. He wasn’t someone I could trust. I was better alone. If he left, then they were safe.
“I’m taking her home,” he said.
Panic returned, laced with a fight I thought had gone out of me. I wasn’t going back to my father’s house. Not like this.
“No,” I gasped.
I couldn’t go home. My father would blame me. I’d be punished further.
His eyes narrowed as he stared down at me. “You want to stay here?”
I nodded. “Can’t”—I struggled to speak—“go…home.”
He didn’t realize I’d flown here. My home was in Texas. He’d be taking me to an airport.
The understanding in his eyes as I gasped the last word gave me a small smidgen of relief.
“My home,” he said. “You need a doctor, and I can get that for you.”