Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
I’m going to whip her pretty ass and tie her to my bed to interrogate her. I’m going to use every fucking tool I have to teach her a lesson she won’t forget. I’ll make her beg for mercy and crave the punishment I’ll deliver, so she knows exactly who she belongs to.
I’m taking her home.
Home.
I don’t like being here anymore. Everything feels borrowed and tired. I liked traveling for a while, but it’s come to the point where I miss my home. I want my own bed again. I want to see the rest of my brothers and my sister. I want to see my mother. Wanderlust can sometimes make me itchy to move, but I want to be home again.
And I want my own damn bodyguards with me.
They see me coming and give me a wide berth, revealing the small, prone body of Renata on the ground several yards in front of me.
My world comes to a screeching halt, and my mind goes blank. All of my anger. My need for vengeance and blood. My frustration with Renata’s escape and my need to make her pay. All of it evaporates.
I take one look at her small, crumpled body on the ground in front of me, and one thought erases all others: mine.
I snap at the men in Spanish. “How could you fucking leave her on the ground like that?” Jesus. It’s cold and dirty. “The next fucking asshole who treats her like trash will dig his own fucking grave. She’s mine to punish.”
One of the men blinks at me in surprise. It takes him a minute to unfreeze. I’m running, my feet pounding on the pavement, when he reaches for her. But when I see him almost touch her, every nerve in my body shrieks.
“No! Leave her. I’ll get her.”
He looks at me, unsurprisingly shocked at my contradiction. Do I want him to touch her or not? I don’t want her on the ground, and I don’t want any other man to come anywhere near her. So the next step is obvious.
I fall to my knees in front of her and lift her up. She stirs in my arms and blinks up at me. Even broken, even dirtied and bruised, wearing a tattered top and torn jeans, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Long, glossy dark hair hangs about her shoulders, her piercing brown eyes haunted and sad. The hollows of her cheek make her look thinner than the last time I saw her.
She needs food, water, and a doctor.
Punishment can wait. Right now, I need to bring her back to life.
I lift her to me and tip my hand under her chin. I tilt her head to the side. Her complexion’s darker than Isabella’s, but even in the dim light, I can see a bruise along her cheekbone and jawline.
“Who did this to you?” I’ll fucking kill them. I run my thumb as lightly as I can along her face, checking for marks, but when she winces, I realize even my light touch is too much for her.
Of course she doesn’t reply.
“Your brother? Was it your brother?”
Her eyes flutter closed. “Carlos is dead,” she croaks out.
I can’t tell yet if she actually believes that.
I push to my feet with her against my chest. “You shouldn’t have left,” I growl and give her a little shake. “You were safe in The Cove.”
Safe with me.
“You think I left?” Her voice is silky and soft, and it makes me want to kiss her.
“Don’t lie to me, Renata.”
My footsteps thump on the rain-slicked streets as I carry her to the car, purring a few paces away. I pause before I slide her in.
Someone’s watching. I can feel their eyes on me.
But when I turn to look, we’re alone. The two guards follow at a close distance, weapons drawn. Colombia’s conceal and carry rules are strict as fuck, but these two don’t care. They hold their Brügger & Thomet MP9 sub-machine guns right out in the open. Maybe I don’t miss my men as much as I thought I did.
Thunder cracks overhead, followed immediately by a bright flash of lightning nearby. I bend and put her in the car just as the rain picks up again.
I fold myself into the seat beside her as the taller of the two guards takes the driver’s seat. “Get us back to headquarters,” I snap. “Isabella’s waiting.”
We drive at a breakneck speed. I watch her out of the corner of my eye. If she says Carlos is dead, there are only two possibilities: she believes it’s so, or she’s lying.
If she’s lying, we can narrow it down further: she’s either on his side or she’s afraid.
I’ll find out the truth. But first… Isabella.
She sits beside me, her back as straight as an arrow, her gaze fixed ahead of us.