Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 79020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
"I'm not going to fucking sell her or share or make her do awful fucking things," I growl, my temper almost to the point where the blackness encroaches, and I know if it gets to that point I won't be able to pull myself back. The cards will just have to fall, and it could leave us all covered in blood with no way back to anything resembling civilized people. I know Ace will do what he feels he needs to do to neutralize this situation. "I'm protecting her."
Instead of staying in this faceoff, Ace spins and turns in the direction of the basement, and I swear I'll rip him limb from limb if he thinks he'll get within a few feet of her.
I'm on his tail as he descends the stairs, and I manage to position myself between him and the door, pulling my handgun from my waistband and holding it to my side.
"Over my dead body," I growl.
"For fuck's sake," Jericho says as he makes it to the bottom of the staircase, seeing my puffed-up chest, gun at my side, and rage in my eyes.
"Are you going to shoot me if I try to set her free?" Ace asks. "Think about it, Pax. How does that make you any different from Adair?"
The comparison makes my skin crawl, and I know there's a part of me that if I weren't wound so fucking tight right now that I might be able to listen to reason, but we stepped over that line when he got in my face upstairs.
"If you want her, you'll have to go through me," I hiss, my thumb pulling back the hammer on the gun.
The sound's very telling, and I see the waver in his eyes as he looks at me with clear disappointment in his eyes.
"Pax, I think--"
"She's fucking mine. You'll never fucking have her."
"Hey, bud," Jericho says, holding his hands up in mock surrender as he inches closer. "No one's trying to take her from you. We just want to make sure she's safe."
I hear the de-escalation in his tone, and I know how the tactic is supposed to work. I also know that they want me to let my guard down so they can manipulate this situation to how they want it to be.
"I'd never fucking hurt her," I snap, thinking both of them are idiots for even implying it.
If I were standing on the outside of this, I could understand their position. I can see how insane this is. I went to this woman's house in the middle of the night and literally kidnapped her. I picked her up off the sofa kicking and screaming into my palm and carried her out to her car.
She seemed more irritated than scared when she got a look at my face in the moonlight, but by the time we got to the cabin, I didn't have to make threats or anything. She walked into this place of her own accord. There was no fucking gun at her temple or a threat on my lips.
I know it doesn't necessarily mean she wants to be here, but she isn't screaming or banging on the door, demanding she be set free either.
"Stay the fuck away from both of us," I say, making eye contact with both of them before reaching behind my back and finding the doorknob. "Don't put me in a position where I have to fucking hurt one of you."
I shove the door open and step inside, well aware when I close the door that they could easily lock us inside. But once we're sheltered inside with the door closed, I never hear the lock slide into place.
"Do you ever plan on telling me just what the fuck is going on?"
I turn, keeping the door on my right where I can defend us if need be, putting her on my left.
"Do you have any idea how much trouble I'm in?" I ask, my heart slowing as I look at her.
I felt instant relief from the chaos bouncing around inside of me the second I pulled into her driveway, and that battle calmed with every step in her direction.
"Does it have anything to do with that?" she asks, pointing at the gun.
She sounds more annoyed than scared.
"Put it away before you accidentally shoot me."
"I would never," I growl, stepping forward, but she crosses her arms over her chest and glares at me as if she's giving me a moment to rethink my choices. "I can't. I need to protect us."
"Your friends aren't going to hurt me."
"They aren't my friends," I argue.
"They made sure you lived when you were stabbed. Enemies don't do that. Put the damn gun down and tell me what's going on."
"You'll think I'm crazy."
Surprisingly, she doesn't lift her eyebrows or scoff like the train already left the station on that idea.