Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
That was fair.
And maybe if I worked to expand his social circle somehow, he would be a little less clingy.
For the rest of the drive, conversation was sporadic and not related to what was going on between us. Though that was something that stayed at the forefront of my mind the entire time.
Because it was impossible to deny that something was happening. Something more than sex.
I could say that I’d had more than enough casual sex in my life to recognize when something felt… different. What I had with Shale was deeper than that.
Was that simply because she was living with me?
Or because I knew her previously?
Some part of me wanted to cling to that, to say that was all it was.
But the reality was, I knew better.
Because the more time I spent with her, the more I wanted to spend with her.
I found myself entertaining the idea of her in my life, in my loft… indefinitely.
Waking up together, spending evenings at my desk and her at her games, sharing meals, introducing her to my people, rolling around in the bed with me.
“Ah… is there a reason we aren’t getting out?” Shale asked, making me snap out of my swirling thoughts to realize we were idling at the curb in front of the loft.
“Right. Yeah,” I said, shaking my head. “Barry knows the code and has a key,” I told her. “You guys go up. I’ll get the tree,” I said, cutting the engine, then watching the two of them move into the building.
I went to my trunk to grab my pocket knife to cut the ropes holding the tree to the roof.
They came out of fucking nowhere.
A pop pop pop rang out.
And before I could get in or get down, the pain sliced across my side, making me slow to react, but I grabbed the hatchet on the way down.
“Junior!”
No.
That was Shale’s voice.
“Get back inside,” I demanded, jumping back to my feet, ignoring the pain in my side as I rushed out from behind my vehicle to a hail of bullets.
“Take her!” a voice hissed even as I charged forward.
No.
Fuck no.
But even as I was rushing toward her, as hands grabbed her and started to drag her, something came down on my head from behind.
And all I knew was darkness.
“Boss! Boss! Wake up!” a voice demanded, hands jostling me as the pain ricocheted through my skull. “They have Shale!” he said, voice panicked.
Shale.
Just the mention of her name had that newly familiar warm sensation spreading across my chest.
Who had Shale?
Then, just like that, it came rushing back.
The graze.
The bullets.
The men with their hands on her, dragging her away.
Then the blackness.
I’d been knocked out.
“Whoa, easy,” Barry said when I knifed up and jumped to my feet, swaying for a second as my head spun.
“Which way?” I asked.
“That way,” Barry said, pointing. “I tried to stop her. When she heard the bullets, she just ran. I tried to grab her, but she pulled away and ran.”
“It’s not your fault,” I told him.
It wasn’t.
It was mine.
Somehow, along the way, I’d fucked up.
They knew who I was.
They tracked us to my place.
Then they ambushed us.
So they could get her.
But who?
Who got her?
The original cartel? Or the ones who’d stolen from the cartel?
It was impossible to know without looking them up, as much as my heart fucking seized at the idea of not jumping in the SUV, peeling off, and trying to find her.
There were too many streets, too many different directions to go in. I would never find her by being impulsive.
“Where are you going?” Barry asked.
“To check my cameras, so I can find these fuckers,” I said, rushing forward, ignoring the wave of nausea that assaulted me as I moved. There would be time to baby my concussion later. When Shale was safe again. When all the fuckers who put a single finger on her suffered for it.
I ran upstairs, cursing at my security system as I unlocked it, then rushing toward my laptop to power it up.
“What can I do?” Barry asked, voice tight as I fumbled for my phone as I scanned through my camera feed.
They must not have realized it was there, as the building itself didn’t have a system. But when you dabbled in my line of work, you knew how invaluable it was to have eyes everywhere. So I’d put my own discreet ones up. But they were walking around freely, completely unconcerned with being seen.
“Got you,” I hissed, pausing the screen, then snapping off a picture to send to Andrés Alcazar.
My phone rang not a minute later.
“Yeah, I know ‘em,” A said, voice sounding tight.
“Who are they?”
“Part of my old crew down in Mexico before I took over,” he explained. “The short one. That’s Jorge.”
“Do you know where they might be staying? They took Shale.”
“Took her?” he asked. “Where were you?”