Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
When I return to Abigail, my hands are coated in gore. I frown down at them. I can’t let his filthy blood mar her body.
Now that I’m coming down from my vicious high, some of my rationality is returning.
There’s a dead body to deal with.
Ron was so easy to dispose of. Back in Charleston, the natural predator had done all the work for me. The alligator didn’t leave any trace of him behind.
But this…
Stephen is a bloody mess in a gallery in the middle of York. I hope to fuck there’s not a camera in this office.
Probably not, since he won’t have wanted a recording of what he was doing to Abigail.
My fists clench at my sides, and I wish I could kill him all over again.
I take a breath and force myself to think.
I’ll have to leave Stephen here. I don’t have a hope of dragging his body anywhere to dispose of it; there are too many tourists in the city for me to get him very far without someone screaming.
There will be an investigation once his body is found in the gallery, but there’s nothing concrete to link me to the crime. I had reason to be in this building only yesterday. If I’ve left any small traces of myself behind, they can be easily explained away.
I inspect my hands. None of the blood is mine. My heavy boots did most of the work until I squeezed the last of the life out of him.
I’ll have to dispose of the boots. And my clothes. I’ll drop them in the river later.
Luckily, I’m dressed in a black shirt and dark wash jeans. The blood that’s splattered my clothes won’t be easily visible when I step outside into the night.
I’m no forensic expert. I might be missing something, but if I get the hell out of the country as soon as possible, I won’t be around for the police to question me.
I have to get Abigail back to the safety of the penthouse. As soon as she wakes up tomorrow, we’ll leave. London is only a couple of hours away. We can be on a flight by tomorrow night.
I lift her limp body and cradle her close to my chest.
“You’re safe,” I promise. “Everything will be okay.”
25
DANE
Abigail stirs in my arms with a groan. I shush her and pull her closer, stroking her silken hair to soothe her.
Warm tears wet my chest, and she sobs softly.
“You’re all right,” I promise. “We’re back at the penthouse. I’ve got you.”
Her delicate body convulses in a violent shudder.
“He can’t hurt you.” I can’t quite keep the growl from roughening my reassurance. “He’ll never touch you again.”
“What happened?” She asks, shaking against me. “We had one drink. I was so hot and dizzy. And then…”
My throat is too tight to speak. Her distress shreds me.
My failure to protect her twists my insides into painful knots.
“Did he…” She chokes on the question. “I don’t remember…”
I force myself to say, “When I got to you, his hands were on you, but he was fully dressed.”
She blinks up at me. “So you…got to me in time?”
I manage a jerky nod.
It hadn’t been in time. Not at all.
He’d groped her and stripped off her shirt. He’d imprinted his taint onto her creamy skin.
She wraps her arms around me, clinging on to me like I’m her anchor in the storm.
I don’t deserve it, but I’m selfish enough to cage her in my own embrace.
“I wanted you so desperately,” she murmurs against my neck. “I wanted to leave.”
The words should be a balm to my ravaged heart, but all I feel is shame searing my chest.
For an insane, agonized moment, I’d thought she was with him willingly. I’d assumed the worst because deep down, I’ve always known I’m not worthy of her.
I’ve craved her too much to care about my unworthiness.
I wanted her, so I took her. I made her mine, whether she consented or not.
She’s still mine.
I can’t let her go, no matter how undeserving I am.
“We’re at the penthouse?” she asks, peering around to get her bearings. “Why?”
“Because it’s the safest place for you. As soon as you feel ready to travel, we’ll go back to Charleston. We can be in London in two hours for the flight.”
“I mean…” She shakes her head as though to clear it. “Where are the police? Didn’t you report Stephen for what he did to me?”
A shadow of my righteous rage tightens my muscles. “I’m sure the police are dealing with him now.”
They’ll have found his dead body this morning. He’s in a body bag, already rotting.
“Is it okay for us to go back to Charleston now?” she presses. “Won’t the police want to talk to me?”
I contemplate her for a moment, debating how much to tell her. She’ll probably be upset if I tell her Stephen is dead, but I also don’t want to lie to her.