Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
"I fucked up, babygirl. I didn’t mean to lose you on our last session. But I’m free tonight."
I shake my head and shove his chest. "No!"
He doesn't take no for an answer and begins to move toward me again.
“I said no,” I yell, louder this time, doing what Adriano taught me and using my voice as my first line of defense.
“You don’t tell me no,” he growls. I cry out in pain when he tightly grips my throat. My mind whirs as I assess which weapon I can use.
And then he's gone. Vanishes, as if someone has waved a magic wand and made him disappear.
Terror floods me, because I know it's Adriano before I even see him. And this guy is dead.
My voice is caught in my throat, and I can't speak as Adriano lifts him straight off the floor and into a table. He fists the back of his shirt and slams his face on the table so hard I hear bone break.
"Adriano! Adriano!" I screech. I run after him, but strong arms hold me back. I fight but can’t move. “No!” He could go to jail. We have dozens of witnesses here, and if he kills this guy, he doesn’t stand a chance.
I watch in horror as Adriano throws him against a wall. He viciously kicks his groin while he's down, then picks him up and body slams him over and over again. The man screams desperately for mercy, but Adriano doesn't stop. He’s barely even winded.
"That's my wife. I told you to keep your hands off her! She told you to leave her alone." He reaches behind him, grabs a beer bottle right out of someone's hand and slams it on the edge of the table to break it, beer spraying everywhere. He's going to cut him. Oh, Jesus Christ, he's going to kill him.
"Adriano! Stop!" I scream, trying to get his attention.
He lunges for the man, trying to stab him, but the man blocks him with his hand just in time. He may not have gotten his throat, but he cuts his hand so badly blood spurts onto the floor. He falls to his knees whimpering, crying like a little boy, pleading for mercy… mercy that will not come.
Dropping the bottle, Adriano grabs a barstool, breaks off a leg with his bare hands, and beats the man like he’s a dirty rug. The man holds up his arms and tries to block the blows, but Adriano is fierce.
I flinch with every sickening thud.
I scream, begging him to stop, still struggling to escape my bodyguard’s hands wrapped around my upper arms. Bruce shakes his head once at me. "No."
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mario Rossi throw himself over the bar and run toward Adriano with Sergio hot on his heels. Sergio and Mario are strong, huge men, but it takes both of them with their full strength to stop my husband. The two of them pull Adriano off the blubbering, bloodied man on the floor, but not before Adriano gets one last solid kick in that catches him right in the mouth.
I turn away, but I don't make the mistake of burying my head on Bruce's shoulder. I don't want him to be the next victim.
“Let me go,” I insist. When Bruce doesn’t let me go, I flick the clasp on my bracelet open and brandish it like a weapon. “Let me go or I’ll tell my husband you didn’t!” I’m instantly freed.
I feel as if I'm going to throw up. I cover my mouth and run to the ladies’ room, just in time. I fall to my knees and vomit into the toilet.
I'm sick until I'm faint as I wait for the sound of sirens. Ha, I’ve forgotten where I am. No one's gonna call the cops on Adriano. Sergio won’t allow it.
The door opens. I crane my head around the stall to make sure it isn't Adriano. God, I hope Sergio and Mario still have him held back.
Flo and Helena stumble into the bathroom. Helena hangs back, but Flo comes straight to me, helps me up, and leads me over to the sink. I rinse my mouth while she holds my hair then brace myself against the wall trying to take deep, calming breaths.
"I'm so sorry, honey," Flo says. "I'm sorry you had to see that, doll. Even though that fucker deserved it, I wish you weren’t front and center."
I stand up, still bracing myself on the sink, and stare at myself in the mirror.
Who am I? What have I allowed myself to become?
One of the great things about moving from place to place is never having to face that question.
But now I do. Because I know who I am.
I’m a woman who is madly, deeply in love with an absolutely unhinged murderer.