Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96805 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96805 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
“Hell, Andrei, don’t get hit by a car. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so dramatic and lose it after calling you, but I really am fine.” He leaned against the wall behind him and grimaced down at the torn knee of his favorite jeans. “I can’t wait to tell Rowe those classes he forced on me worked.” All he heard were shoes slapping concrete fast and when the running sounds changed and grew closer, he saw Andrei. He closed his eyes and slumped, a sigh of relief falling out of his mouth as he ended the call and shoved his phone back into his pocket.
When Andrei touched his chin, he opened his eyes.
“You got hit. Your cheek is already bruising. Were you mugged? And holy shit!” He turned Ian’s head and winced when he lightly touched his neck. “Someone fucking tried to strangle you? Where did this happen?”
“Down 14th near the restaurant. Not a mugger. Jagger.”
Andrei’s normally golden skin went pale. “Jagger did this?”
“Saw Jagger outside a restaurant. Guess he saw me too. Sent one of his goons after me.” Ian winced when pain shot through his throat. “Wow, that asshole did a number on my neck. But I took him down. You should have seen it.”
He frowned as he played back the bastard’s words in his head. “Grabbing me and taking me to talk to Jagger, I get, but that man tried to kill me.” He lifted a hand, saw it was shaking, and shoved it into his hair. “Oh damn. I lost my beanie. I loved that beanie. One of my waitresses made it for me.”
Andrei closed his eyes and wrapped Ian in a hug. “Shit. Oh shit. You could have been…fuck, Ian.” He tightened his arms. “We need to call the police. You can identify the man, right?”
“Yeah. I think.” As the seconds ticked by between the attack and the escape, the details of the man grew hazy, but he knew he’d always recall the beady dark eyes, the jagged scar that stretched across his sloping forehead. “It was dark in that notch between buildings, but I got a good look at him. Big guy. Bigger than Sven, even.”
Andrei tugged him back against his chest. “You could have been killed. You said Rowe’s training kicked in? I’m so fucking glad you took those classes.”
“Me, too,” Ian said into Andrei’s coat, his voice muffled. Andrei smelled like Lucas’s penthouse and that gave him so much comfort, he felt his eyes tearing up. He quickly blinked them away. “I did that throat thing. You know, with the fingers? Worked like a charm. I screwed up at first. Panicked.”
Andrei pulled away, knelt and looked at his knee. “This needs to be cleaned up.”
“Let’s just call the police.”
Andrei nodded. “Come on, let’s see if he’s still there or at the restaurant. I’ll call on the way. Then I’m calling Rowe.”
Ian knew better than to argue. All of his friends would be down here in the next half hour. He didn’t mind. They loved him, and he wouldn’t trade their overprotective, alpha asses for the world. He even wished Lucas would be among them.
“Wait,” Ian said, as an idea came to him. He tugged Andrei to a stop and held out his phone. “Can you get a good shot of my neck? I’m gonna do something really, really bad. You might want to look away after you take the picture.”
Andrei frowned but did as asked and handed it back. “What are you going to do with that?”
“Get someone home who should have never left.”
Andrei’s expression went flat, his dark eyes and elegant features smoothing out as understanding kicked in. “Yeah, Ian, that’s a shitty idea. Kind of cruel, really. I might be impressed.”
“Yeah, well, after years with the guys, I’ve learned from the experts.”
“He’s going to lose it.”
“I don’t want to hurt him more, but he needs to come home so we can take care of him. So he can take care of you.” And with that, Ian sent the image of red fingerprints all over his neck to Lucas without an explanation.
Then he turned his phone off.
Chapter 2
The mass of anticipation and fear tearing up Hollis Banner’s gut warred with the thunder of his heartbeats as he held his breath and waited for the signal. He was supposed to have been outside of Boris Jagger’s compound by now. Time was running out.
Somewhere out there, beyond the gates…hidden in the trees…the law was about to devour Jagger’s world in one hard and fast swallow.
And Hollis couldn’t fucking leave.
Months of working undercover in Jagger’s operation had finally brought him to this moment. He was standing in the bastard’s home. It was a massive, sprawling monstrosity of connected stone buildings and turrets—like something out of a warlord’s castle of old and fitting as hell.