Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 70955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
“Yeah, angel eyes. Home. Here with me, where you belong.”
I waited for her to say something, but she just beamed at me and went back to eating. She finished her breakfast with gusto, only pausing here and there to ask questions, obviously wanting to know more about me. I answered each one honestly and told her she could always ask or tell me anything.
After we cleaned up the kitchen, I led her to the master bath and told her to take a shower. She looked at me expectantly, and when I shook my head, she pouted adorably, almost causing me to give in. “The next time I make love to you, I’m going to take my time and worship every inch of your gorgeous body.” I winked, and she blushed before scampering into the room and shutting the door. I’d already hopped into a quick shower before making breakfast, so I headed to my closet. Digging around, I managed to come up with a T-shirt that had shrunk in the wash that I hadn’t gotten around to getting rid of. It was still pretty big on her, loose and hanging off one shoulder, but it didn’t look like a tent or go all the way to her knees. She giggled again while I rolled up some sweats so she wouldn’t trip on them and pulled the drawstring as tight as it would go. Satisfied that she was covered and wouldn’t lose her pants, I quickly ushered her out to my car, anxious to get everything taken care of so we could put it all behind us.
She gave me an address, and I smothered my frown, not wanting to upset her, but I was familiar with the neighborhood. Thinking about my woman living in that drug-infested hellhole only ratcheted up my need to drain the fucking life out of her brother.
When I pulled up in front of a building that looked as though it should be condemned, I squeezed the steering wheel so hard it creaked. After a few deep, calming breaths, I shut off the engine and climbed out before going around to the passenger side and helping Angelique.
It took a monumental effort to keep my grip loose as I held her hand while we approached a door on the ground floor with an eviction notice taped on it. The dirty window beside it was cracked and duct taped, the door was barely hanging onto its hinges, and the jam was a mess, obviously having been kicked in multiple times. When we reached it, she pulled out a key, and I was surprised the door didn’t simply collapse inside from one light touch.
She pushed it open and started to enter, but I held her back. “Stay here for a minute, angel eyes.” I didn’t like the thought of her outside by herself, but I was more concerned about the possibility of danger inside. She nodded her acceptance, and I did a quick check of the living room, kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom. By the time I returned to her, I was seething with untold fury.
The “apartment” was littered with molding food and old take-out containers. There was trash and drug paraphernalia scattered all around. A dirty, ragged old couch and a busted coffee table appeared to be the only furniture, other than a dingy and probably disease-infested mattress in the bedroom. What infuriated me the most, though, was the small corner of the bedroom that was neat and tidy, with several clean blankets made up to look like a bed. A few books were stacked next to a desk lamp on a little wooden table, and a canvas knapsack was stowed underneath.
The sink in the kitchen had been scrubbed clean, as well as the microwave, though the rest of the room was in the same condition as everywhere else I’d seen. It was clear that someone had tried to keep the bathroom, which was the size of a stall in a public restroom, clean, but from the stains on the toilet, sink, and shower floor, the effort had been in vain.
I schooled my expression and gentled my tone when I spoke to her. “Let’s get your things, baby.”
Angelique shrugged as she walked inside, sidestepping all the shit in a way that told me she was used to it. “I don’t really have much. My brother sold everything to pay the rent.” I bit my tongue to keep from retorting that it was more likely he sold everything to pay his bookie and dealer.
We went to the bedroom, and she grabbed the bag and started filling it with her things. While she folded up some clean clothes from the closet, I stepped into the hallway, staying where I could see her, but she wouldn’t hear me. I dug my cell phone out of my pocket and hit one of my speed dials contacts.