Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Nine tugs on the thin metal chain hanging from his neck, and it pulls apart in two sections, holding half in each hand like two shiny whips. He flicks his wrists and the chains slice into the skin on the men’s wrists holding their guns, forcing them to open their hands and drop their weapons.
Little Thug charges at Nine. Bending at the waist and baring his teeth, he growls and runs head first quickly on his way to barreling into Nine. But Nine steps to the side, cocks back his arm and connects his tattooed knuckles with Little Thug’s face, sending him flying backwards into the wall. Blood from his nose sprays like a fountain into the air.
Big Thug uses the moment when Nine’s back is turned to go after him. Nine turns back just in time, sending an elbow into Big Thug’s jaw with a sickening crack. He groans, toppling over like a tree onto the pavement.
Nine looks over to me. My pulse races as he takes long strides in my direction. I hold my breath as he gets closer and closer. He pushes a section of light brown hair from over his eye. In addition to his eyebrow ring he has another through one side of his thick bottom lip. His nose is slightly crooked, probably from previous fights because this obviously wasn’t his first.
My reasoning and ability to properly process thoughts is definitely flawed due to shock. It has to be. Otherwise, why in this moment of all moments, while I am still fearing for my life, would I also be admitting to myself or even noticing that Nine is by leaps and bounds the absolute most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
“What are those things?” I point to the chains around his neck that are now reattached and look like a simple necklace.
“They’re called Buddha beads, although mine have been altered to be smaller and…sharper.”
“Sharper…” I hear myself saying.
I mean to ask him why he’s here and why he just bothered to save me when he doesn’t even know me, but in my confusion, I hear myself ask instead, “Who— who are you?” Even though I already know the answer.
“They call me Nine,” he says, looking down at me with his own confusion marring his face. He frowns and runs a hand over his smooth chiseled jaw as if maybe I’m not the girl he thought he was saving, and his rescue is simply a case of mistaken identity.
He reaches down and lifts me to stand, but he doesn’t back away. With nowhere to go, my back is now pressed to the wall. He rakes me over, his gaze trailing from my eyes to my lips as if he’s searching for something.
I swallow hard. My voice shakes. “Why do they call you Nine? Like the number?”
His frown flattens to a straight line. He reaches out and twists a lock of my hair in his hands. “Nine, like the number, but that’s not the reason for the name. Guess again.” His sly grin is irritating yet beautiful which makes it all the more irritating. My pulse is still racing from my near kidnapping and didn’t think my heart could beat any faster but suddenly it’s at full gallop.
I’m confused and scared out of my mind and can’t remember what he just said.
“Guess the right answer, and I’ll step aside.”
I just want to be home wrapped in several layers of blankets for possibly days, maybe even the rest of my life. “Uh…like nine-millimeter? Are in a gang or something? You can be scared straight. I saw a documentary on it once.”
He cocks his head to the side and slowly a small grin spreads across his lips. He chuckles, low and deep. I feel it in my chest, specifically my nipples. He licks the silver ring through his lower lip. “Or something. Keep guessing.”
I look to the back wall of the alley to think. “Nine…as in your favorite number?”
“Close, but still no.”
“Nine, lives? Like a cat?”
He shakes his head.
“What else could it be?” I ask, a small notion creeps up in the back of my brain.
“You’ll get it. In three, two…” His voice trails off.
Without thinking, my eyes drop to his crotch.
“One.”
My cheeks burn. My skin suddenly feels too tight.
“I…I…” I’m tongue-tied. Words are something I’m never at a loss for, but this man has managed to steal them away without much effort at all.
Asshole. Talking is my main coping mechanism. If I don’t have words, I don’t have anything.
“It’s not exactly true though,” he says, leaning over me with his elbow on the wall right beside my very red cheeks. His nearness is like a morning fog, clouding my thoughts with his masculinity. It’s like a drug I’ve never tried but know I’d be addicted to after the very first high.