Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 14425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 72(@200wpm)___ 58(@250wpm)___ 48(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 14425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 72(@200wpm)___ 58(@250wpm)___ 48(@300wpm)
I refuse to stay down, using every bit of strength in my powerful legs to kick violently. Every kick is frantic, mixing with panic and anger. The sound of a gun cocking behind me stops me immediately, leaving me panting on the floor.
"Stop now, and you won't get hurt. We'll be done soon." The gunman's restraint puts me at ease, but the one with a bloody nose is less than compassionate.
Stringy, sweaty, light brown strands of hair stop around his chin, clinging to a scruffy beard and mustache that's clearly struggling to connect to his sideburns. Brown eyes shoot daggers at me from above his fingers, which are pinching his nose closed to stop the blood from dripping profusely.
"Fuck that," he snarls, dropping his hand long enough for me to get a good look at his face. However, the moment isn't long enough for me to react to him. He grabs me by my shirt and slams me onto the ground. The force of my head smacking against the floor is enough to send shockwaves across my skull. Everything around me fades to black.
The dull sound of machines beeping creeps into my mind, pulling me out of a deep slumber. There's nothing to remember. No dreams. No memories. Only the black.
When a stern voice speaks over me, it's a blast from my past. Feelings of safety and lust wash over me as I force my eyes open to see a man so different from the person I used to date.
Standing beside my bed, Victor Bennett has my emotions all over the place. Dark brown hair sweeps to the back of his head, barely reaching the top of his ears. A square jaw without prickly hair in sight shows some of the weight he's put on. The bulge of the muscles under his shirt brings a smile across my face.
There's an ache traveling down the side of my ribs, causing me to moan and stir, which gets Victor's attention.
"Holy shit, Chelsea. What the fuck did you do?" he asks, hooking a finger under my chin to survey the damage that landed me here in the first place. Pale blue eyes stare into mine. They hold so much compassion that I've lost, and always convince me to be a better version of myself. And when circumstances didn't allow me to be better, those same blue eyes saw the path I needed to take.
"What's the matter, Victor? Don't you think I'm the most beautiful girl in the world anymore?" I shift to sit up. A shard of pain causes me to inhale sharply, but I blow out a breath as if it will ease the pressure.
He offers me a timid smile with a slight stroke to the side of my face. "You're always the most beautiful woman, Chelsea."
I wince in pain as I lean into his touch. "Shit. It feels like I've been kicked by a horse."
"That's what happens when you botch a robbery. You get kicked and left holding the bag." His words are short as whatever sparked between us seconds ago fades, and he shifts into police officer mode.
That grabs my attention just enough to realize that my ankle is cuffed to the rail of the hospital bed. Machines beep endlessly around the off-white room, with a nurse standing by the door with her arms folded across a clipboard. Her eyes focus on Victor, but there's something hard in her gaze.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Victor. What the fuck is this? Why am I cuffed? Where's Dad?" I fire off one question after another while trying to kick the cuff off my ankle.
"Nigel Emerson is unconscious in a fucking coma. He's stable but in Intensive Care two floors up."
"Why does it sound like you think I have something to do with this? Do you actually think I'd get me and my father mixed up in a robbery of my father's own jewelry shop? That's stupid, even for you, Victor."
He shrugs. "Evidence puts you at the scene with the merchandise."
"Of course I was at the scene. Isn't that where you found me?" I roll my eyes, jerking my ankle to see how secure the handcuff is to my ankle. I'm sure I can pick the lock in a few minutes if an officer of the law wasn't standing beside me. "Victor, am I under arrest or not?"
"I just want to ask you a few questions and don't want you walking away, you know? Like the last time we spoke."
"Fuck you."
2
VICTOR
Chelsea Emerson is even more beautiful than the last day I saw her. Memories of my fingers sliding through her soft red hair come back to me like a freight train. Her gorgeous hazel eyes have a way of melting the icy wall I've built around my heart to keep people like her out. Still, I have a job to do.