Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Until there was a flash of motion in my periphery.
It was too late.
To silently tell him to go back to bed.
To call his uncle.
To do anything but go on the attack himself.
I saw the flash of metal.
I heard the howl of pain.
Then I saw the blood spraying out of the guy who was holding me’s arm.
It dropped immediately as he automatically went to grab his stab wound.
My gaze was everywhere then.
On my attacker.
On the other guy who was momentarily too stunned to move.
But mostly on Liam.
Who no longer looked like a kid.
There was something feral, but controlled, about him then. Like a cat who seemed overpowered but was about to win a fight. Both arms were raised, one with the forearm out in a defensive gesture. The other held the bloody pocketknife. The one his uncle had given him after dinner one night, when Char was out of sight.
His gaze flicked between the two men as he backed toward me, putting himself between me and danger.
“Fucking grab him,” the one guy demanded as he tried to put pressure on his arm.
“Run,” I demanded, voice choked.
He didn’t.
I didn’t expect him to.
He might have been new to the mob world. But he was a Costa through and through.
I’d seen it plenty of times already. Especially in his protectiveness of his little sister, how when he walked her to school, he was always on the street side, always half a step behind her so he could be aware of everything surrounding her. I had no doubt that if someone ever put a hand on her, they would be on their backs writhing in pain.
It was both sweet and incredibly upsetting that he was willing to use that protectiveness for me.
The other guy lunged at Liam, making my heart skip.
But Liam was quick, striking out with the knife.
It whooshed through the air, but the attacker was quick enough to pull away.
Once.
Twice.
I shoved at the couch, not wanting to be trapped and useless.
There were no weapons nearby. Unless Charlotte’s five-hundred-page hardcover book counted. Which, maybe it could. If that hit someone in the face. I lunged for it just as the killer lunged for me, his hand grabbing my arm as I moved forward, making pain shoot through my shoulder, a bright, crackling sensation that had me yelping in pain.
“No!” Liam roared, throwing himself at the guy even as I wrenched backward, yanking my arm out of his grip.
There was a roar of pain, and I couldn’t tell who it came from even as the other guy rushed toward them.
I flung myself over the couch, taking him down to the floor with me.
He landed with a grunt.
I landed with a cough as the air rushed out of my lungs at the impact of crashing down on him.
There was more crashing, cursing, and hissing coming from behind us. I needed to get to Liam before something horrible happened.
But even as I thought it, the guy under me hooked me around the waist and rolled me under him.
My head smacked against the floor, making pain shoot through my skull.
There was no time to wallow in that, though, not as this guy reached for my arms, grabbing them, and pinning them to the ground above my head.
I tried to drag my knee up to hit him in the groin.
He was faster, shoving his whole body between my legs, pinning my pelvis down.
And it was right then I realized maybe I’d prefer the other guy with his hands around my throat.
Because I could feel this one’s erection against me. This was making him hot.
Disgust roiled in my stomach, inching up my throat.
Above me, the guy’s eyes crinkled behind his mask. Like he was smiling. Like he knew what I realized and was getting off on that too.
There was a loud crash, the sound of wood splintering. The coffee table, I assumed.
Liam.
Even as I thought it, though, a fist came out of nowhere, ramming hard into the guy’s jaw.
His body flew off of me, and I scrambled up, making my way toward where Liam and the other man were scuffling on the floor.
I heard a crunch.
Saw blood.
My heart lurched.
I flipped over onto all fours, ready to crawl over there and grab the guy.
But my ankles were seized.
Pain jolted up my foot and leg as I was dragged viciously backward, needing to whip my head back to avoid whacking my face on the ground.
He dropped my ankles as suddenly as he grabbed them, reaching down to grab a fistful of my hair and pulling back until I saw stars, until the sting made my eyes automatically flood with tears, until I had no choice but to sit back on my screaming ankle to ease the pain.
I smelled something potent then.
Sweet.
In a sickly way.
It got closer to my face, and I remembered what had that smell.