Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 30832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 154(@200wpm)___ 123(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 154(@200wpm)___ 123(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
“Please don’t hurt me,” she whispers, pulling me from the trance she had me under.
Hurt her? I’ll fucking kill anyone who tries to harm a hair on her head. She looks like she fell from heaven.
My angel.
“I’m not going to hurt you, angel,” I tell her, my voice coming out deep.
I can hear the need in it. The fear in her eyes doesn‘t dissipate, and it twists my stomach into knots, something that hasn’t happened to me since I was a kid and thought I’d disappointed my father. She’s terrified of me. It’s written all over her face. I’ve scared this perfect angel. Fuck, I don’t even know what’s happening. Something is pulling at me. My body feels like it’s throbbing. Every muscle is on fire, and I feel like I’ve run for days instead of the distance it took us to get here.
Her full lips part a little as she studies me. I drop my hand from her cheek, already missing the feel of her softness against my rough hands. Jesus, I can’t believe I just had that thought. What is this woman doing to me?
My eyes run down her small frame, and her size irritates me. She shouldn’t be walking around at night. She barely comes up to the middle of my chest, how could she possibly protect herself? It’s then I notice what she’s wearing. A burnt colored orange waitress uniform with Rita’s over her left breast. It looks like it’s made out of cheap polyester, and I wonder if it hurts her soft skin. Why is this angel working at a restaurant when she could be a goddamn supermodel? Hell, this is California. I don’t know why I haven’t seen her plastered on billboards and in magazines.
“Please,” she whispers again.
My gaze shoots back to hers, and I know the anger must be showing on my face. I try to mask it, but it’s pushing forward. I’m not used to having to control myself. The feeling is foreign to me. When I want to do or say something, I just do it. But I don’t want to scare her.
“If you’re running from someone, you don’t run home,” I grit out. “Then that person knows where you live.” Her mouth forms an adorable O shape. She’s probably wondering why the man who chased her down is giving her this information.
She backs up a little more, trying to get farther away from me. That only angers me more. I want her to move toward me. I want her out of this shitty-ass building that needs to be torn down. That’s something I’ll need to look into.
“I swear I won’t say a word.”
Her promise makes me remember why I’m here. That I chased her down because she saw me kill a man. She’s a witness to a crime that could put me behind bars for the rest of my life.
“Have you eaten?” I don’t know why I ask the question, because it’s not the direction I should be going in. I should be more concerned about other things, but I can’t seem to help myself and I can’t find the will to stop myself.
“I…” She glances down the hallway both ways, and I wonder if she’s looking for someone. A boyfriend maybe? Not a husband. I didn’t see a ring when my eyes traced every part of her body. If she had a boyfriend, she doesn’t any longer, that’s for fucking sure. I’ll have my men bury him next to Joey. Then they’ll only have to dig one grave. What kind of man would leave her unprotected?
“You didn’t, did you,” I say, and it’s not a question.
She looks tired and hungry on top of being scared to death. I reach up and touch her cheek again, and she flinches. My jaw tightens.
“You won’t tell anyone about what you saw, will you,” I demand, again not asking.
She shakes her head. I slide my fingers across her cheek, stealing another touch of her, unable to control myself. Maybe she isn’t an angel. Maybe she’s a witch who has me under her spell. I shake the ridiculous thought from my head.
I drop my hand, going for her purse. She doesn’t stop me as I dig through it, finding her wallet and looking at her ID.
“Thea.” I say her name, liking how easily it falls from my lips. She doesn’t respond. I look into her purse and see she doesn’t have any credit cards and only a little bit of money. I see an old cell phone and grab it. I glance back to meet her eyes, and she’s staring at me with that fucking scared look still on her face. I click on the buttons and put my number in her phone. Then I hit send and end the call when I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I drop the phone back into her purse, then slide the strap back up her arm.