Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
I’ve torn my attention away but feel a distinct need to leave. Immediately. “I have to go,” I say, stepping past her this time and heading straight for the local grocery store.
Walking into the store, I pass the cashier before heading past the frozen food aisle and straight to the stand that holds the bread. Searching for the cheapest loaf, I grab it and then quickly open my purse to fish out the coins I saw at the bottom. Counting them, I am short, but just barely. Dropping to my knees, I tip my bag upside down. A book falls out, and my empty and very sad purse falls with it.
Shit.
My hands are pressed to the dirty floor, and I take a deep breath to try to center myself. I put my purse back in my bag, but as I reach for the book, someone else grabs it before I can. The first thing I note are black boots, followed by a pair of black jeans I know all too well. He picks up the bread that’s next to me and walks to the cashier. Still kneeling on the floor, I watch as he adds a few other items before he pays for it, and the cashier puts it all in a bag. Managing to stand on shaky legs, I walk over to him and hold out my hand.
“Do you think I got this for you?” he asks, holding the bag. He scoffs, and his voice is dripping with contempt.
Milo Savage is mean and cruel.
But there is something more behind those chocolate eyes.
“I want my book back.”
He glances down at the book in his other hand, then raises his gaze back to me. “No.”
He turns and strides out.
I gasp and run after him.
His crew, if that’s what they’re called, are all waiting for him. I feel all their eyes on me as I tap him on the shoulder. He turns to face me, and those dark, tormenting eyes lock on mine as he glares down at me. “What?” he growls out the word with a sharp edge of irritation followed by his eyes narrowing.
I hold out my hand, and a few of his men start to whistle.
Milo’s gaze flicks to my hand before it comes back to mine. He bends down until he’s in my face, then speaks, “No.”
Sucking in a breath, I lunge for the book, but he tucks his arm behind him, putting it out of reach, but his face is still dangerously close to mine.
“Fucking with Cody’s wife, are we?” One of his men laughs.
“She’s married to Cody?” I hear another say, and my face flushes with embarrassment at their words. While I know some of the men, I don’t know all of them. After my mother died and I married Cody, I stayed in our house for years, getting high, drinking, and not living my best life.
I’ve been clean for at least two years.
I touched my husband once after that and quickly realized I hated even the thought of his touch. I was physically revolted.
Thankfully, he never forced me in that way, but he did use to force the drugs on me. And the manipulation? Yeah, he’s good at that as well.
“Get angry, Elizabeth,” Milo says. “Get fucking angry.” He turns and throws his leg over his bike.
I have been angry for years.
Angry for the situation I’m in.
Angry, wondering when I can leave.
Angry, deciding when I should leave my deadbeat husband.
Chapter 4
Milo
“If she only knew the power she held.”
My little inked-up devil.
That’s how I think of her when I see her.
Why she hides herself away for that asshole and makes herself smaller when he’s around, I will never know.
“Give it back, Milo. Now.” She steps up closer to where I sit on my bike.
I shoved her book under my vest, close to my chest, for safekeeping. “Get on,” I tell her, tapping the back of the bike.
“Wh-what?” she stutters.
“Get the fuck on.” I hate to repeat myself.
She shakes her head and steps away.
“You have two choices. You either go home to your husband…” her lip twitches at my words, “… or you get on and come with us.”
Loud revving breaks through the air as the guys start their bikes.
I stare at her, waiting for her to decide.
Elizabeth Petal.
Probably the most stunning woman I will ever see in my life, yet she has no fucking clue how beautiful she is. This woman standing defiantly in front of me has long black hair that almost reaches her ass, and it falls around her heart-shaped face. And those long eyelashes flutter every time she speaks to me. Tattoos are scattered randomly up her arms. And like me, she always wears black. Tonight, she’s wearing black tights, with a crop top of the same color that shows her midriff, revealing the ink on her stomach that scrolls up toward her ribs.