Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
She sifted her fingers through his hair. “I know.”
“Charlie, I’m sorry.” He went to his knees in front of her, still holding onto her hips. “I could have found another way, and we both know it. It sounds cliché as fuck, but my motivation changed almost immediately, right around the time we ended up in bed together. I don’t even know how to explain it, but you fit. You see me in a way that no one else does, and you’re never afraid to push back when I’m being a dick.”
“Which is regularly.”
For once, he couldn’t read a single thing on her face. Aiden didn’t know if it was shock or if she had written him off right around the time Mae took her. “If I hadn’t—”
“Aiden, stop. As charming as it is hearing you grovel, the truth is Mae taking me had nothing to do with you.”
He went stock-still. “What are you talking about?”
“That vendetta you have against my father? You’re not the only one. From the sounds of it, he’s managed to piss off every single organized-crime family in a three-hundred-mile radius.” The corners of her lips turned down. “He never told me. I knew his work was important—dangerous, even—but he never bothered to warn me that it might trickle down to me.”
She looked so damn heartbroken that he pushed to his feet and gathered her close. “I know this isn’t something I can make right, but I meant it when I said I was playing for keeps. It’s too fucking soon, but if the last twelve hours have proven anything, it’s that we can’t take a damn thing for granted. I love you, Charlie. I love your strength and your intelligence, and your wicked sense of humor. I love that you’re a survivor and it doesn’t matter how hard the world knocks you down, because you come back swinging.”
“Aiden.” There was a wealth of information in the way she said his name, weary to the core.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, right above one of the cuts. “It’s too soon. You don’t have to answer now. Or tomorrow. Or, hell, next week. You’re safe, bright eyes. I’ll wait as long as you need, and once you make your decision, if you tell me to get lost, I’ll respect that.” He checked to make sure she wouldn’t keel over and then stood up to turn on the shower.
Neither of them spoke as the water heated up. Silence continued to reign through the painful process of cleaning Charlie’s wounds and bandaging her up. Aiden found two sets of clothes laid out on the bed and quickly changed into the sweats and T-shirt meant for him. He helped Charlie put on a matching set.
She looked like she’d gone through a war—and she had.
“Where do you want to go?”
“My apartment.” She rattled off an address that he remembered from the file Liam had compiled when they first put the plan into motion.
Aiden nodded. “Let’s go.” The sooner they were out of the Romanov residence, the better. He didn’t think Dmitri would go back on his word after enduring so much shit to keep them alive, but he wasn’t willing to risk Charlie on an assumption.
Forty-five minutes later, Mark dropped them off in front of a run-down building six blocks from the bar Aiden had first found her in. He fought down the instinct demanding that he toss her ass back into the car and drive to a safer neighborhood. Charlie had lived here for two years without incident. She was more than capable of taking care of herself.
That didn’t mean he had to like it.
He hesitated in front of the door. “Will you let me check the place out?”
“I’d like you to stay the night.” She shook almost imperceptibly. “Just tonight.”
“Anything you need, bright eyes.”
She unlocked the door to her apartment and let them in. It was as run-down as the rest of the place, but Charlie had livened it up with bright throws on the secondhand furniture and equally bright prints on the walls. Her bedroom was more of the same, an orange and white chevron knitted blanket covering the dull gray comforter and making the whole place feel more like a home than just a location where someone slept. “I like it.”
“You’re already categorizing the improvements you’d make—if you wouldn’t buy the whole building and condemn it outright.” She carefully pulled the T-shirt off and slid the sweats down her legs. Her body was a patchwork of bruises and cuts, but she hadn’t had any trouble breathing and showed no signs of internal bleeding.
“I should call Doc Jones.”
“I’m fine.” Charlie shook her head and then winced. “Not fine. I’m nowhere near fine. But Mae was careful enough not to do anything that would kill me, and the cuts aren’t deep enough to scar. She wasn’t done playing yet.”