Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 41243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
“Haven’t had this much fun since Munich in ‘92.” She hiccups. “Though I’d kill for another martini.”
The car takes a hard right, and I follow, sending Mrs. Farrol sliding across the seat behind me.
“She lives out here.” I steady the car.
Mrs. Farrol giggles. “This is wonderful. Wait, what?”
“Sorcha, she lives out here. My intel has her on an estate–”
“Outside of Versailles,” she finishes for me. “She bought it after she made her first million. I remember.” She sighs, and even over the sound of the engine, it sounds wistful. “It was a ruin back then. Now, though, now I bet it’s beautiful. Sorcha did that with everything she touched–made it beautiful.”
“If she lays a single fucking finger on May–” I yank the wheel to the right again, following those taillights on the dark road. The snow is thicker now, the flakes fat enough to start blanketing the midnight landscape.
Mentally kicking myself again, I focus on May, on getting to her. She has to know there’s no way I’ll let her get hurt. I roar, pure anger pulsing through me. Anger and fucking helplessness. I fucked up. I never should’ve let her out of my sight.
“Love’s like that–” Hiccup. “Makes you nuts. Blinds you. Has you screaming and cursing only to have you crying tears of joy a moment later. That kind of love, it’s rare. I was a fool to ever let it go in the first place. Don’t make my mistake, young man.”
“I don’t intend to.” I ease onto the brake, watching as the car turns into a gate that’s already open for its arrival.
I ready myself for a fight, but as I drive up, the gate remains open. No guards are in sight. The falling snow obscures my view, but up ahead I see the glow of lights. A house.
I follow the car up the drive that’s a straight shot through a row of hedges.
“This is it.” Mrs. Farrol leans forward, the scent of vodka wafting from her. “I remember. It was a pale cream color with the most beautiful windows. Let in tons of light, even when it was a wreck.”
The car eases to a stop ahead of us, and I pull up and slam the car into park.
I’m out before the other driver has even fully opened his door. I yank the door open, then slam it back on his leg.
He screams. I slam it again and hear a satisfying pop as his leg breaks. “Carson!” he screeches, and I know the voice instantly. Lennie. Yanking the door all the way open, I grab him by the scruff and throw him onto the snowy ground.
“I was just doing my job. Don’t–” He screams as I land a hard kick to his ribs. Another satisfying crack.
He writhes in agony, yowling like the little bitch he is, and I turn back to the car.
“May!” I rip the rear door open.
She reaches for me, her eyes wide and teary.
“Are you okay?” I pull her into my arms.
She buries her face into my chest. “Carson.”
“Tell me. Are you hurt?”
“No. Just shaken up, I guess. He didn’t—he didn’t–” A sob catches in her throat.
“I’m so sorry, babe. I should’ve–”
“Mousey!” May tries to pull away.
I don’t let her. “Where is she?”
“Glove box.”
I walk May to my car and sit her inside with Mrs. Farrol. “Neither of you move.”
Keeping one eye on May, I walk around to the passenger side and lean in, opening the glove box slowly.
Mousey bolts out, fur flying as she tears across the driver seat and out the door.
Lennie screams again.
I jog around the car and find Mousey hissing and clawing at him, fresh blood on his stupid face as she swipes at him, artfully dodging his hands as he tries to fend her off.
“Mousey!” May cries.
She hisses one more time, then darts into my car.
“The fuck!” Lennie curls into a ball, trying to protect himself. “The fuck!”
For the first time in a long time, I think about taking a life. I haven’t committed that particular sin in a long, long time. Not since I found my best friend Trent’s body when I was first investigating all the missing kids from my area. I was still young then. Impulsive. I killed the man who abused and killed the person I considered a brother to me. Right now, I don’t feel impulsive. If anything, I feel calm. Could I take another life? Looking down at him and thinking of the danger he just put May in, I realize the answer is yes. I could end him right here, right now.
“Carson?” May’s sweet voice cuts through the murderous fog of my mind. She moves to my front, Mousey cradled against her chest.
“Keep it away from me!” Lennie screams and flips over, crawling through the snow.
“You did wonderful.” May kisses Mousey on the top of her head. “You and Carson are my best defenders. The very best.” She looks up at me. “Thank you.”