Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 110089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
A pattering splits the air. What the hell?
I stretch out of the vehicle, and the driver tosses me a Sig before ducking. A battered white van careens by the cars parked at the curb, the passenger spraying bullets.
People scream, duck, and run. Reporters take cover and start recording almost instantly.
I turn to see the car with Ella and Rosalie slam into a light pole.
The gunman turns the weapon on them.
“Ella, get down!” I bellow, already on the move.
THIRTY-TWO
Ella
“Out. Get out.” I shove Rosalie with all my strength as she opens the car door, and she falls to the ground, her skirt splitting up the side. “Get by the tire,” I order, panicking. The bright lights around the station don’t allow us to escape into the darkness.
Gunfire erupts all around us.
She grabs my arm and yanks me out, pulling me toward the tire. Then she calmly lifts a small gun from a strap at her thigh and levers up, shooting back.
Bullets pierce the trunk of the car, and I wrap my arm around her neck, dragging her down and out of the way. I look up, seeking shelter.
Justice is running full out toward us, blood on his cheek, firing toward the van as he moves.
The world stops. Holy crap. Danger and fury cascade from him, and his dark gaze remains on me. I can’t move.
Rosalie struggles beneath me. “Let go of my neck,” she croaks.
I release her. “Stay down.”
The wheels of the van screech as it turns the far corner, and then cars rev up in pursuit.
Justice reaches us and he crouches. “Are you okay?” He gently wipes dirt off my chin, his eyes a wild brown flecked with lighter tones.
“Yes.” I gulp as Rosalie sits up next to me.
Alexei’s men surround us. I can’t breathe.
Justice looks around. “Anybody hit?”
Police pour out of the station as reporters clamor toward us.
I don’t see any blood. There’s a lot of damage, especially to the cars, but nobody seems to be dying.
Justice must make the same determination, because he visually checks Rosalie over, nods, and then lifts me right off the ground, cradling me against his rock-hard chest.
“Hey,” I protest.
“Stop,” Rosalie says, jumping up and grabbing his arm.
He looks at her, then over his shoulder at the men behind her. “Either shoot me or get the fuck out of my way.” He starts moving toward Wynd and his bullet-riddled vehicle, where his larger-than-large driver is already pulling away from the curb. Steam hisses through the holes in the hood, and the vehicle seems to be limping, but it rolls toward us.
“Ella?” Rosalie asks.
I look over Justice’s shoulder to see her panicked face and wide eyes. There’s a scratch on her chin. Had I almost just gotten her killed? Tears fill my eyes, and I bat them away. If I ask her, she’ll have her bodyguards shoot Justice. Right here by the police station, and I think they’ll do it. “Justice?”
“I’m not letting go. Make a decision.” There’s no give in his voice or hold, and he keeps walking. Shoulders up, body relaxed, gait graceful as he tries to get us out of here before the police stop us.
I don’t want Rosalie hurt. “I’m fine, Rosy.” I make sure my voice is loud enough for the now-staring cops to hear. “Justice and I need to talk. I’ll call you later. I promise.”
She wavers and pushes strands of her dark hair away from her face.
Wynd opens the backdoor of the car and Justice slides inside, still holding me. The door is slammed shut, and the car peels away from the curb. Wynd must be staying to deal with the police.
“Take us to the bar while the house by the ocean is swept. I want the grounds completely searched,” Justice says to the driver.
I take several deep breaths and let myself lean into Justice’s strength. Just for a second. I can feel his steady heartbeat beneath my shoulder and I look up at his dark eyes. “How are you calm?”
He lifts one eyebrow. “That’s what you ask me?”
I blink. “Um, yeah.” Okay, so he’s pissed. Of course. Somebody just shot at him. At both of us. “What are you thinking?” Probably about revenge. But who was the shooter?
“That I didn’t spank you hard enough last time.”
The words take a second to register. Probably because the heat is roaring through my head, and the sound of my own blood boiling fills my ears. Wait a second. “What?” My brain feels like it’s surrounded by clouds. Filled by them. Buildings are flying by outside. How fast are we going? “Justice?”
He flips me to face him, my thighs falling on either side of his. One swipe of his hand down my front has buttons flying in every direction. I gasp, but he grabs the center of my bra and yanks me toward him, his knuckles brushing my breasts.