Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 72480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
I almost want to vomit, but then I realize the situation I find myself in, and my fight or flight instinct takes over. No time to lose my shit. I have to go, now.
I kick the body off me and crawl away, trying to swat the blood off my nightgown, but it’s no use. I scramble off the bed and stare at Marcello for a moment as he tucks his gun back into its holster.
“Harper,” Marcello says. The indignation is still there even though it’s hidden by a layer of guilt and anguish over my predicament. “That fucker was touching you, wasn’t he?”
“You came just in time,” I respond, nodding as I try to ignore the dead body on the floor.
“Fuck …” he growls as he steps closer and grabs me, wrapping his arms around me in a warm hug.
His sweet embrace makes me falter, even if only for a moment, and my body sinks into his like a key sliding into a lock. A sigh dissolves the panic that had settled in my bones, and I want to cry against his neat suit for everything I’ve been through. But even now, I don’t cry easily.
And when I look up at him, and he gazes back at me with that same longing gaze, he smashes his lips onto mine.
It feels like heaven and sin all wrapped into one.
Was it ever supposed to feel this good? It almost makes me feel guilty. That’s how good it feels to have his lips claim mine. And how could I not feel like kissing him when he just saved me from a fate worse than death?
So for once, I let myself enjoy the moment for what it is, no matter how short it lasts.
But then I realized he was the man I ran away from.
My lips tear away from his. “How are you even here?”
“I went through a hatch in the basement, straight from the backyard. I waited until it was pitch-black and everyone was asleep before I set my plan into motion.”
“Plan?”
He had a whole plan to get me back?
I don’t know why that surprises me, but it does.
A quick and dirty grin spreads across his lips briefly. “Of course. You didn’t think I’d come storming into my enemy’s lair without thinking, did you?”
Enemy.
That’s right.
The Irish and the Italians are sworn enemies now.
And Frank and Molly are dead-set on killing Marcello. If they find him here …
“Fuck!” My brain kicks back into action. “My mother, Molly, she locked me in here.”
“Let’s go,” Marcello says, and he grabs my arm and tugs me toward the window.
“Where are we going?” I mutter as he rummages with the window, which obviously doesn’t budge. “I already tried. She sealed everything shut.”
“I don’t care how, but we’re going home,” he says before he pulls out his gun again and shoots at the lock.
Home? Home where?
Does he mean…?
BANG!
In a single shot, it’s broken off, and Marcello shoves open the window. Then he whips a rope from a backpack he was carrying and ties it around my waist.
“What are we going to—?”
Suddenly, the door bursts open. My eyes widen. Molly steps inside with three guards following suit.
Time feels like it slows down. Marcello snatches me, ties the rope around his waist too, binding us together, and he grabs my arm and hoists us out through the window, throwing us onto the railing.
“Hold on tight!” he shouts as we climb down the ivy growing up against the building.
“Get them!” my mother yells.
Marcello jumps off and flicks open a knife, cutting the rope in just a second.
The guards are already positioned near the window, guns at the ready.
When I throw Marcello a panicked look, he yells, “RUN!”
BANG!
A squeal leaves my mouth as the bullet ricochets across the grass.
BANG! BANG!
I run as fast as I can through the garden in front of the house without looking back, without even thinking about the fact we’re being shot at. Even if Molly hates me for trying to escape, she can’t possibly hate me that much, can she?
Maybe she would rather see me dead than in Marcello’s arms.
But there’s no time to think about it.
“C’mon!” Marcello beckons me as we reach a fence, and he goes on one knee to let me use him as a step so I can grab the top and hoist myself over with a little help.
As I jump over and land on the ground, he grabs the fence and climbs. While he reaches the top, I briefly look around, trying to decide whether I should continue running as far away and as fast as I can.
But then he jumps down next to me, and the moment passes. He grabs my arm and pulls me along with him, away from the fence.
More guards pour out of the mansion’s front door, and it’s got me screaming my lungs out … because their guns are pointed straight at us.