Southern Comfort Read online Natasha Madison (Southern #2)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Contemporary, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Southern Series by Natasha Madison
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Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
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I keep the door open to listen for her, and when I’m slipping on my shorts, the sound of her screaming makes me rush back into my room. Standing in the middle of the room, she’s shaking like a leaf while tears streak down her face and her chest heaves as she gasps for air. Her eyes are wide, and the fear in them breaks me. I grab her around her waist and pick her up, carrying her back to my bed.

“Darlin’,” I whisper when she buries her face in my neck, and I feel her tears seeping into my skin. “It’s okay. I’m here.” I kiss the top of her head, and she clings to me tighter, but I lay her back down in my bed. Grabbing the water bottle on the nightstand, I take the cap off for her and hand it to her. “You need to take a sip of water.”

Her hands come up, but she’s still shaking so badly that she can’t even hold the bottle. I bring the bottle to her lips, and she takes a little sip, then looks at me. “I’m …” she starts to say. “I have.” When she looks down, I see that the fear is going away, but something else is creeping in. “It was just a nightmare.”

I push her hair away from her tear-streaked face, and her breathing slowly returns to normal. “There you go,” I whisper. “Just breathe.”

“They took me,” she says softly, and my blood starts to boil. “When they arrested him, I was there. Wrong place at the wrong time.” I watch her look down, and she finishes the story. “I was returning his stuff. I should have had it couriered over, but I wanted to have one last look at him and maybe see what I thought was there.”

She shakes her head, but her eyes never meet mine. She sits on my bed, and my hands are on both sides of her legs while she talks. I want to hold her in my arms while she tells this story, but I want her to open up to me more than I want to touch her.

“I was there maybe two minutes before the commotion started. Someone kicked down the door, and I was standing there with my feet glued to the floor. Even if I tried to move, I couldn’t because a gun was placed at the side of my head.” When her hand comes up and she rubs her temple, my anger starts to rise. “I can still feel the cold metal placed there.” Her eyes meet mine, and I see the turmoil in them. It’s clear for everyone to see. It’s clear for me to see, and for once, she isn’t guarded. For once, she is herself.

“He pushed me forward.” One of my hands forms a fist. “Told me to get down. The words were stuck in my throat. I didn’t know what was going on, and when I looked up, all I saw were black boots as they stormed into the house. It was almost like I was a part of a movie. They all had on headgear, and their guns were aimed, ready to be fired. I didn’t even feel him pull my arms to my back, but I then felt the cold cuffs being placed on me. He took a hold of my arm and forced me to stand, and all I could do was watch. I looked over at him and saw he still had his gun out, and I have never felt more scared in my life. Dominic was dragged out of his bedroom. I expected him to tell them that I had nothing to do with whatever was going on, that I was not even with him, but he did none of that. He kept his mouth shut and didn’t say a fucking word.” She shakes her head, and I want to have four minutes with this guy. Four minutes and I would bring him to his knees. Four minutes of pure torture. “Actually.” She looks at me now and then puts her head down. “He did say something. He said, ‘bunch of fucking pigs.’”

“Darlin’.” I lift her chin so she can see me. “You don’t have to relive it.”

“They threw me in a cell for fourteen hours,” she says, and she starts to shake. “Fourteen hours without one word. Nothing. I sat in there for fourteen hours, and all I could do was relive my whole life. And trust me, nothing about my life is good enough to relive, let alone think about for fourteen hours. Every single time I heard footsteps, my heart sped up, and I got my hopes up that someone, anyone was coming for me. But not one person showed up for me. The only ones who came to get me were two detectives. I was taken to a small office, and all I could think was what if they don’t believe me? What if they send me back to the cell, and no one comes for me?”


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