Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 15444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 77(@200wpm)___ 62(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 77(@200wpm)___ 62(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
Dark hair is kept close to his head, and a silver bar is pierced through his left eyebrow. Those hypnotizing eyes narrow at me, but not in threat, more like curiosity. The hand resting on the steering wheel is tattooed with a skull and roses, letters on his knuckles that I can’t make out from here. Even from the obscured view I have of him, he’s the most attractive man I’ve ever seen in my life.
He’s also my literal kidnapper.
God, how does this situation keep getting worse?
It’s then I notice the blood. My stomach drops.
“What the fucking hell is going on?” I shout, eyes focused on the dark red stain covering the leather of the driver's seat. I lean forward, and no one stops me, seeing a slash mark in the driver’s black shirt that’s utterly soaked.
There’s no way in hell this man should be driving right now.
“You’re not in danger. You have my word,” the driver promises me, his voice all rich and smooth and making goosebumps rise over my flesh. “I just need you to fix me up.”
“That’s what the hospital you just snatched me from is for!” I point out, exasperated. My doctor brain overrides my angry, fearful emotions. This man is clearly in pain, clearly very injured, and every part of my training wants me to help him.
“No hospitals,” all three men say in unison, making my eyes widen.
There are only a few reasons someone insists on no hospital care. None of them are good. With the stab wound, the way I was taken, the high-speed escape—it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that these men are into something bad and don’t want to risk dealing with the police we’d have undoubtedly called from the ER.
“You shouldn’t be driving,” I say, trying to clear my head.
The driver chuckles, but I notice the wince in his face. “Scared, Blondie?”
I snort. “Pissed, more like it.” I refuse to show weakness. “I’m not exactly excited about the prospect of crashing if you pass out from blood loss.”
The driver smirks, and my heart pounds in my chest. “A little stab wound isn’t gonna take me out,” he assures, the teasing tone making me flush.
“Typical stubborn man,” I mutter under my breath, and the man on my left chokes on a laugh as he tries to hide it. “Fine, I’ll help, but I swear to God if anyone puts their hand over my mouth again, I will bite you.”
The threat is a little pathetic, especially to men like this, but I don’t want them thinking they can walk all over me. They need me, and I need to use that to my advantage.
Thanks to the driver breaking every speeding law known to man, we reach a small bungalow on the outskirts of the city in record time. They take me out of the car and inside, but nobody puts their hand over my mouth again so at least that’s an improvement.
Inside, the driver waves a bloody hand at the other two men and orders them to wait outside and secure the place. Clearly, he’s in charge because both of them nod and their expressions harden into professional mode as they break apart and step outside to do whatever the hell they need to do to ‘secure the place’.
“I apologize for the introduction, Blondie, but needs must,” the driver says to me. “I’m Kellan, and my word is the law around here. You won’t be harmed by me or my men.”
I nod sharply. “I’m Kacie, and this ‘get to know me’ session can wait until you’re not ruining the rugs with your blood,” I tell him, looking away when he smirks at me again. Fuck, that should be illegal. I shouldn’t get flustered like this.
“There’s medical supplies and a foldout table over there,” he tells me, and I waste no time striding over to the nook on the left of the living space to find the stuff I need.
Later, I’ll take in my surroundings, but right now I have to focus. Sure enough, there’s a metal surgery-style table that I set up and a box of basic first-aid tools. I tut, unimpressed with the lack of equipment, but I can make do.
“Shirt off, lie down, and let me work,” I instruct, trying my hardest not to look at him as he strips his shirt off and lies down on the table in front of me. But, shit, I can’t help it. He’s covered in tattoos and has abs for days, and I really should not be noticing how hot my patient is right now.
Forcing myself into action, I grab supplies and start cleaning up the dried blood around the wound, giving myself better access to the gash itself. It’s deep but luckily has missed any vital organs, and after a few stitches and monitoring, he’ll be just fine. Kellan’s abs tense, and he hisses through clenched teeth as I begin stitching.