Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 68831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
She had to be in one of these two locations, safe and waiting for him. He couldn’t handle any other possibility.
“You’re leaving The Majestic unprotected.” His head of security shifted in the seat, pulling the phone away from his mouth to deliver the opinion. “Someone comes in, wants to clean us out? Now would be the time to do it.”
Dario shrugged. The Majestic was the last thing on his list of concerns. He got onto the highway, his throat tightening at the knowledge that they’d pass the location, just a few miles ahead, where Bell had been put into a car and taken away.
Was she in pain right now? Was she scared? Each minute that passed felt interminable. Who was this woman? And why the fuck, of all things to do, would she take Bell?
Tire track analysis had put the bitch’s vehicle as a large SUV. A Yukon, Suburban, Escalade or Expedition. It was a classification that barely narrowed things down, especially in this town. His phone buzzed and he reached for it, opening the incoming text message. It was from Laurent.
—Landed. Where do you need me?
Dario swallowed the emotion that unexpectedly thickened in his throat. Sometimes, the people you didn’t call were the ones you needed the most.
BELL
This bitch was crazy. I hadn’t taken her opinions into consideration when I’d written the letter to Dario. I’d been thinking only of his mindset, and how he would feel and react if I died. I was trying to calm his fears and lessen any guilt. I wasn’t thinking about her reading it, and certainly hadn’t expected the reaction it created.
She shoved to her feet, holding the page out, the wide-lined page trembling from her outstretched fingers. Night had fallen and taken most of the light with it. I peered at her through the dimness and tried to understand the rigid set of her body. I think she was angry. I thought back over my letter, trying to see what I might have written that would have caused that emotion.
Then, I thought over what she had said to me.
“We were so close,” she had whispered. “All you had to do was die, and everything was going to be okay.”
The we of the statement had stuck with me, almost as much as her mention of her father, his disappointment, his death… it had all pointed in one giant arrow to Robert Hawk. The devil. Who, possibly… passed his evil down to this woman.
Or, she was delusional. Or, just as likely, both.
“It’s cute that you think you love him. But Gwen… Gwen loved him too.” Her dark outline stepped closer. I couldn’t see the expression on her face, but her voice was a mix of amusement and disgust. In her question, Gwen’s name stood out as if it was printed in Las Vegas neon. Her one-syllable name had been said with reverence, the sentence arching up to that finish, as if no one should dare to offend GWEN.
This was personal. Whatever dynamic I’d entered into when I’d first kissed, touched, and fell for Dario … the girl had been part of that dynamic. Maybe we were wrong. Maybe Hawk hadn’t ordered the hit. Maybe this girl had had her own agenda, her own role that had played out in this disaster.
“We were so close...”
She reached forward and I saw the glint of the knife in the moment before she scraped the blade’s tip along my outer thigh. “Listen, you spoiled slutty Vegas whore. You don’t get to love Dario Capece. And he doesn’t get to fuck around without having serious consequences brought down on his shoulders.”
I could see the white flash of her teeth when she smiled.
“Robert,” she drawled. “Before he died, before you all TOOK HIM FROM ME…”
The blade bit into my thigh, her weight toying with the pressure, and I gasped at the pain, my mind scrambling for time, for a way to distract her with conversation. “I know you killed her.”
It was a wild card, and probably untrue, but it worked. The knife stilled, the pain dulling, and the dark shadow tilted her head. “You don’t know what I’ve done. What I’ve been through. What I’ve SACRIFICED.” She moved closer, her breath hot on my face.
I had bought a few seconds, nothing more. I kept my right hand still, hidden by my side, and hoped she had forgotten about it. I needed to do something. Right now. Something to stop her.
I thought of the martial arts lessons I took freshman semester. Tried to find something that my free hand might be useful for. Box her on the ears. That might give me about five seconds of time. Cup my hand, swing it around, putting the force of my body into the motion … she’d fall to the side and experience a few seconds of disorientation.