Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Mr. Marchesi cleared his throat. “I don’t need to know anymore. This is an excellent mystery. I just finished it.” He reached for the book with his scarred left hand. When he grasped it, his hand spasmed. I glanced up and saw naked pain on his face for a second before he covered it with blankness.
“Do you need me to get something for you?” I asked.
His eyes narrowed. “I already told you, I don’t need anything from you.”
“I can tell you’re in pain. I’d like to help, and I’m wondering if this situation is…um…how are you…um…” I looked away. Fuck, what was I doing? I couldn’t insult him by asking how he’d protect me if he was in pain. Why had I opened my mouth?
He reached into a drawer in the side table and pulled out a gun. Oh God, was he going to shoot me? “Please, I….”
Without saying a word, he screwed something onto the end of the gun. Was that a silencer?
He was going to kill me. I should have followed my instincts and run while I could.
“Follow me,” he ordered.
Maybe he didn’t want to execute me in his nice sunroom. Should I try to run? “I…um….”
He turned back and scowled at me. I scurried to catch up to him as if I was eager to be shot.
I shivered when we stepped though the French doors into the courtyard. He motioned for me to sit down on a couch that faced a fire pit. I would be much more into following his demands if he wanted to fuck me instead of wanting to kill me. “This isn’t necessary. Really. I’m sorry if I insulted you. I didn’t mean to. I just wanted—”
He held up a hand, and I immediately stopped speaking. He was so fucking sexy, so commanding. If he asked me to beg him to shoot me, I probably would.
“Watch,” he said as he moved a few steps away. “See that apple hanging from the top branch?”
“I…um…not exactly.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Come over here.”
On shaky legs, I moved to stand beside him. He pointed again at a huge apple tree. While it was past its growing season, a few small apples still clung on.
“You mean that tiny one way up there?” How was his eyesight better than mine? He was plenty old enough for me to call him Daddy.
“Yes. Now, watch.” He lifted the gun and shot it off the tree.
“Holy shit. How did you…?” I looked around for some way this could have been a trick but found none.
“Go find it.” He gestured to the ground under the tree.
Was he going to shoot me while I searched? At least if he was I wouldn’t have to face him while anticipating the moment.
I saw the apple. It was bright yellow, easy to pick out against the brown leaves. I stared at it, eyes wide. “It’s…you didn’t….” I walked back to him and held it out. “It’s whole.”
He smiled. “That’s because I shot the stem.”
“No way. That’s not… No one can do that.”
“I can. Before my…accident, I was one of the best assassins in the world.”
My breath caught. “You’re an assassin?”
“I was. Now…I have a hell of a lot more paperwork.”
I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. He sounded so pissed off about that.
“So you don’t kill people anymore?”
His smile made him look like a panther who was about to eat me. “I didn’t say that.”
“Oh. Well…I hope they’re all bad people.”
“They are, but then, so am I. Things changed for me after…” He waved his hand as if to dismiss whatever had happened to him. “But my aim is as good as it ever. You’re safe here.”
It seemed like I was. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now take your book and go. I’m busy.”
He hadn’t seemed busy. He’d just been sitting in the living room and drinking from a brandy snifter, but I wasn’t going to push my luck.
6
DOM
Itossed and turned, unable to sleep. My hand ached. It usually did after seizing up, but tonight was especially bad.
I tried massaging it. I’d taken something for the pain, but it wasn’t strong enough. I had stronger options, but that wouldn’t allow me to be alert and on guard for Corey.
The way he’d looked at me in the library had disturbed me. He didn’t show pity. I would’ve told him to get out if I’d seen that in his eyes. There was a softness in his expression, a real desire to comfort.
I’d seen that in my sons in the early days, until I shut them out. Now that things were easier between us, they had learned not to comment on my injuries.
My weakness made me furious, and I hated for anyone to see it. I certainly didn’t want anyone to draw attention to it, but the usual fury I felt wasn’t there when Corey offered to help. Was that because he was so clearly nice, so obviously good?