Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 169(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 169(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
He leaned down and brushed his lips over my forehead. “You won’t. I swear it on my life. All you need to do is rest and I’ll take care of everything.”
“If he finds out I’m still alive, he’ll want me back.” I thought I felt a slight burn in the bend of my left elbow and turned my head. There was an IV tube running there hooked to a pump that was whirring softly. “What’s ‘at?” Yeah, things were starting to close in on me. Everything sounded like it was echoing in the room around me, and my ears were ringing.
“Your last dose of pain meds before I get you out of here.”
“Where’re we goin’?” I needed to focus, but it was an impossible task. I could feel myself fading fast.
“I’m gonna keep you safe, Cecilia. That’s all you need to worry about.”
“Please don’ hur’ me.”
“Never, baby. I’ll protect you with my Goddamned life.” He brushed his lips over my eyes, making me close them, so very gentle despite his harsh words and the growl to his voice. “Let the meds take you. I’ll take care of everything else.”
* * *
The next time I was aware of anything, I was in a different room. This place didn’t smell like a hospital. Instead, there was the soft fragrance of lavender and eucalyptus, with a fresh ocean breeze wafting over my face. I was in a comfortable bed with lots of pillows and a light comforter draped over me to my waist. I was in a man’s oversize T-shirt and -- oh, my God, it smelled like I remember Atticus smelling.
“Far as we can tell, Ettore Alfonso isn’t looking for her. I seriously doubt he cares if she’s dead. But if he finds out she’s alive, he’ll definitely send a soldier after her.”
There was a small whimper somewhere close to me. I knew the feeling. The thought of Ettore finding me made me wish Marco had finished the job he’d started.
The side of the bed dipped and a warm, rough hand enveloped mine. “Hey there, baby.” Gentle fingers brushed a lock of hair from my forehead. “Pain meds wearing off?”
I blinked my eyes open, focusing on the man sitting beside me. Atticus looked worn out but determined, his gaze unwavering as he assessed me. “You’re safe, CeCe. I won’t let anyone hurt you,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “You know that. Right?”
I struggled to sit up, wincing at the sharp pain in my side. I clamped a hand over the spot but hissed in a breath when that hurt too.
“Easy.” He gently removed my hand before moving to help me sit, fluffing pillows behind my back and head. When he was satisfied, he sat back on the edge of the bed. That’s when I noticed a big comfortable-looking chair sitting beside the bed. There was a trash can beside it loaded with what looked like crushed Red Bull cans.
“How long I been out?”
He shrugged. “A day. Bettin’ you need the bathroom.”
I tried to roll my eyes at him, but not only did it hurt, I just couldn’t commit. If he was right and I truly was safe, then I was willing to bet he’d done a metric shit ton to make it so. “Now that you mention it.”
“I’d ask if you wanted a bedpan but I’m pretty sure I know the answer to that. Besides, I’m not a nurse. But I will carry you to the bathroom.”
“No.” I spoke quietly, a little embarrassed to need help at all. “But I’d appreciate it if you helped me so I don’t fall. Not sure I could take the pain if I did.”
“Absolutely.”
He stood and waited patiently for me to decide to push the comforter back. I thought I knew I was wearing panties and a shirt, but nothing else. I took a deep breath, blood rushing to my face as I flushed in embarrassment.
“You know what?” I cleared my throat because it was trying to close up and I was close to tears. “I’ll be fine on my own.” I swiped at my eyes when a couple of tears, the motherfuckers, overflowed.
Atticus opened his mouth when there was a soft knock at the door followed immediately by a small woman entering the room. She had on jeans, motorcycle boots, and a leather vest over a black T-shirt. She was young. Maybe late teens or early twenties. What was crazy was, when she’d first entered the room, with a welcoming smile on her face, she actually looked the part of a carefree young woman. The second she saw my tears, her expression had changed, transforming her face completely to something like, “Fuck with me at your own peril.”
“Bullet? What the fuck’d’you do ta her?” She rushed over to me, shoving Atticus out of the way.