Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 153571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 768(@200wpm)___ 614(@250wpm)___ 512(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 768(@200wpm)___ 614(@250wpm)___ 512(@300wpm)
"It's loaded. If anyone comes through that door, you shoot as soon as you get a clear shot," he whispers, his voice deceptively soft. His phone lands in my lap. "Lock the door behind me and call 911."
Oh my God. He's going out there.
"Roman–"
He jerks me toward him before I can beg him not to leave me in here alone and kisses me hard. "You pull the fucking trigger as soon as they step inside this room, baby," he whispers.
He's really going out there.
I think I'm going to throw up or faint.
His lips touch mine again. "I love you, Mila."
Before I can say anything, he pulls away. Tears run down my face as he slips into the shadows of the room, disappearing like a ghost. He moves so silently that I can't even tell where he is until the bedroom door creaks open.
"I love you," I whisper, so fucking scared I'm shaking as another thud filters into the room. With the door open, it sounds closer than before. Way too fucking close.
As soon as the door shuts behind him, I jump out of bed and hurry to the door, flipping the lock. Once it's secure, I dive back into the bed, putting my back to the headboard. I've got his gun in one hand while I use the emergency button on his cell to dial 911.
I strain to hear anything from outside of the bedroom, but the only thing I can hear is my own panicked breathing and the phone ringing.
Please, please, I pray.
"911, what's the address of your emergency?" a female dispatcher asks on the second ring.
I whisper the address into the phone, trying not to sob. "Someone's in the house," I say after she repeats the address back to me. "My…" I don't even know what to call Roman. What's the word for someone who owns you, body and soul? I don't have one. "Roman Gregory is a cop…an ATF agent. He went downstairs." A hysterical sob bubbles up, but I fight it back. "He's alone, and there's someone in the house. We need help."
"I'm dispatching officers to you now, ma'am. Are you somewhere safe?"
"I-I'm in the bedroom. I have his gun." Another tremor rips through me when I realize that I have his gun. I don't know how that didn't register before, but it didn't. He's downstairs alone, and he left his gun with me. He's defenseless because he wanted to protect me. That realization cracks me wide open, fracturing me apart.
"Please hurry," I sob, more tears pouring down my face.
The dispatcher keeps talking, but I'm so fucking scared for Roman, I don't hear her.
"Please let him be okay," I whimper, chanting the prayer over and over.
Please, God, just let him be okay.
Chapter Nineteen
Roman
My heart is in my throat as I make my way downstairs, pure terror for Mila pounding through me with each heavy beat. I'm naked, unarmed, and very fucking possibly outnumbered, but the only thing I can think about is the terrified little blonde I left in my bed. Leaving her in there alone damn near brought me to my knees. If something happens and they get past me to her…I can't let that happen.
I won't let that happen.
I'm going to fucking murder whoever Guerrero sent, and then I'm going to find him and kill him slowly. I will hunt him to the ends of the fucking earth if that's what it takes. Anything to keep the woman upstairs safe.
Please, God, just let me keep her safe.
I make it to the bottom of the stairs and pause. The lights are still on in the kitchen, illuminating part of the living room. A shadow moves back and forth across the floor. I hold my breath and listen, straining to hear every little sound over the beating of my own heart.
A faint shuffling sound comes from inside the kitchen. At random intervals, a quiet thump sounds over the shuffling. I don't know what the fuck it is, but I'm almost certain there's only one motherfucker in the house with us.
I can take one. Even naked and unarmed, I can take one. I've taken on a hell of a lot more with a hell of a lot less at stake. For Mila, I'll do whatever the fuck I have to do. I need to do it quickly, though, because I highly doubt they sent only one man after me.
Finn called this morning to let me know that Los Angeles is on the brink of a full-fledged cartel war, exactly like I fucking feared. Guerrero's people ambushed and killed two members of a rival cartel last night. The motherfucker is planning on taking out anyone who poses a threat to his new drug.
If they're here to kill me, there are bound to be others lurking around somewhere. I can handle myself, but I'm not about to tempt fate. I need to deal with this son of a bitch and get to the garage. My other guns are locked up in the gun safe I had installed when I bought the condo.