Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
She'd know.
Because I'd make damn sure she knew.
My knuckles ache from gripping my cup.
She laughs at something he says, but it's the wrong laugh. I know her laughs by now—the real ones that light up her whole face, the shy ones when she's pleased, and the nervous ones when she's trying to be kind to someone who doesn't deserve it.
And this fucker doesn't deserve it.
He reaches across the table and takes her hand. I go still. Blood pumps hot and furious in my veins when she stops moving but doesn’t pull away because she’s way too fucking polite. But I see her shoulders tense, and that’s enough.
I'm halfway out of my seat when he leans in even closer and says something that makes her face go red.
Bianca pushes up from the table. “I have to use the restroom,” she says in a rush.
Perfect.
I give it thirty seconds after she disappears down the hallway, then I'm moving. The bastard's checking his phone, smirking to himself, when I slide into Bianca's empty seat.
He looks up, his eyes wide and afraid. I slide off my sunglasses and give the same look I give my opponents before I beat their fucking arses.
“Uh, do I know you?”
“No.” I lean forward, keeping my voice low and even. “But I know you. Know you've been staring at her arse since she walked in. Know you just said something that made her want to run away from you.”
He fidgets, pushing himself away from the table, but a pink flush creeps up his neck. “Look, mate, I don't know what your problem is or who you are—”
“My problem,” I say, letting the edge show in my voice, “is that you asked that girl out, thinking she'd spread her legs for you after one fucking mediocre date. That you're sitting here calculating how much cheap pizza and soda it'll take before you cop a feel and get in her knickers.”
“Christ.” He tries to laugh it off, glancing around. “Are you her brother or something?”
I don’t know how long I have before she returns. “You're gonna finish this date, and you’re gonna be perfectly fucking polite. You’ll drive her home, walk her to her door, and you will never contact her again.”
“You can’t tell me what to do.” He's trying for brave, but his voice wavers. Good. Fuck, how it would feel to break his jaw.
I lean across the table, not touching him, just close enough that he leans back. “You'll do what I said. And if I ever see you near her again, if I ever hear you've so much as texted her, I'll find you. I’ll hurt you. And you’ll wish you never met the girl.” I lean in closer. “I’ve cut the heart out of men twice your age for less. And I would do it fucking again.”
His face has gone pale.
Good.
I stand, smooth my shirt, and walk away just as Bianca comes back.
But I don't go far.
I wait in the car park, watching as the bastard awkwardly keeps his hands to himself, barely talks, and finally heads to his piece-of-shite car with a dented bumper and rust spots.
Bianca looks confused but relieved.
Of course the fucker doesn’t know enough to keep her on the inside of the street, to open the door for her, or treat her like the princess she is.
I memorize his license plate.
The drive to her apartment takes twelve minutes. I follow at a distance, keeping my headlights off until I need them. He parks, and she exits.
I follow him to his apartment building across town, then watch him park in the cramped lot behind a dumpster.
He goes inside.
I give it an hour. Long enough for him to settle in, think he's safe, and maybe even convince himself the whole thing was just some random psycho, not something he needs to worry about.
Nah. I’m not playing around. I want him to fucking know I mean it.
I pull on gloves, grab the knife from my glovebox, and get to work.
All four tires. Deep, clean slashes that'll cost him a fortune to replace. I take my time with it, methodical and thorough. The hiss of air is satisfying. Not as satisfying as slicing through flesh, but it’ll do.
When I'm done, I stand back and admire my work.
I leave a strip of paper tucked under his windshield wiper.
STAY AWAY.
He'll see it tomorrow morning when he finds his tires shredded. He'll remember the man in the pizza place, the threat, the look in my eyes.
He’ll never call her again.
She deserves better than him.
She deserves better than me too.
But at least I'll make sure no one unworthy ever gets close enough to hurt her.
At least I can do that much.
Chapter Five
Present day…
Bianca
The applause is deafening as I walk across the stage, diploma in hand. Somewhere in the crowd, Mam is crying. I can hear her even over the roar.