Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 39687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 198(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 132(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 198(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 132(@300wpm)
What made it even more crazy was he didn’t give a flying fuck. During his first kill—so many years ago, it felt like a lifetime—he’d had a smidgen of regret. He’d cared about what he’d done. As the years had gone slowly by, and with each kill, he had felt his emotions shatter until tonight, where he didn’t feel a thing. There was no guilt, no anger, not even contempt for the people who had planned to wrong them.
His father had told him many times how it would get easier. He’d never opened up to him about his feelings. No one ever did.
With the blood gone, he got out of the shower, changed, and made his way out of his home. He had to find a woman, to fuck someone, to get this feeling out of him. He had to feel something.
Entering the city, he parked his car and walked across the road, going to the nightclub but stopped when he heard a feminine scream.
In a weird part of his brain, he recognized the sound of that scream.
The call of the nightclub and the pussy he’d get was strong, but he couldn’t ignore the scream.
He walked toward the sound, finding himself at the entrance to an alleyway. It was dark, but he saw one man, holding a woman who was trying to fight. His hand was across her face, and as she turned, he knew exactly who it was.
Drawing out his blade, Marcus approached.
“Hold still. This won’t hurt at all. Damn, you’ve got some nice tits on you.”
He grabbed the man’s hair, yanking it back and sliding the blade across his neck, and shoving him to the ground.
Laura let out a cry, her hand covering her own mouth this time as she looked up at him.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I was walking home.”
“In the dark?”
“I was at the library. You killed him.”
He slammed her up against the wall, putting a hand over her mouth. Tears were falling down her face, and she looked terrified. “You will keep your fucking mouth shut.” Pulling out his cell phone, he dialed his father and organized a cleaning crew. Once he was done, he put his cell phone away and stared at his other problem, and Laura was indeed a problem. “That fucker was going to rape you.”
“What about the cops?”
He held her arm tightly and marched her out of the alley, just as the cleaning crew arrived. She tried to fight him, but she knew better than to scream for help.
Shoving her into the car, he buckled her seatbelt. “Try anything funny, and you’ll end up like that bastard.”
Slamming the door closed, he rounded his vehicle. The call of pussy muted as he thought about Laura.
She was enough of a distraction for him.
****
Laura stared at the basement door, thinking about the one time she had seen Marcus kill for her. She didn’t know why the memory appeared. For a long time, she’d had nightmares about the man in the alley, but always, Marcus was there to save her. She didn’t know why he had, or why he’d spent the night with her.
It was the one and only time she’d seen in one of his penthouse suites within the city. He’d called her father, explained what happened, and then he’d ordered her around once again, telling her how important it was to keep secrets.
She didn’t need the pep talk or the long explanation of why she had to keep quiet. After he’d taken her home, she tried to put the event in the back of her mind, and she’d succeeded for a long time. Being around him, seeing the violence simmering beneath the surface, the man who’d killed was still there, would always be there. What scared her the most was she didn’t care. She knew who they all were, and her father, many times, had told her never to speak about them or their association.
This marriage, he wanted something out of it. For his father to be paying a visit, she knew it was important but didn’t know exactly why.
Putting her hand to the door, she pushed it open and stepped through.
Walking downstairs, she stopped, watching him as he attacked a punching bag. His suit was gone, and she saw it neatly folded in the corner on a chair. His large, muscular body was on full display for her to admire. She sat down and waited, not wanting to interrupt his fighting. His body was heavily inked, but with how fast he moved around the bag, she couldn’t make out the ink.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” It was the truth.
He stopped punching, grabbing the bag and staring at her.
His sharp blue eyes were intense as they watched her.
“Do you like hitting bags?”
“It takes the edge off.”
“Do you need to do it often?” she asked.