 by Marie James.jpg)
Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 77841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
I know that makes me crazy, narcissistic, and a little out of touch with the reality of how the world works.
I’ll never argue that fact with anyone.
Maybe it was the hundred-degree Texas weather.
Maybe it was overstimulation from the crowds at the beach.
Maybe it was one of a million other things that irritated me that day.
But when Raya Reed looked me up and down, finding me lacking on some scale I’m sure no man in her life would ever live up to, I snapped.
It wasn’t until she was tied up in my house that I discovered she was Senator Thomas Reed’s daughter.
A normal person would let her go.
I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my past, but making Raya MINE will never be one of them.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter 1
Liam
“This is the worst fucking idea,” Hollis grumbles as he leans down and sweeps sand off his cast for the hundredth time since we met up today.
“This was your idea,” Nash reminds him.
“Still a bad fucking idea,” Hollis says. “I’m never going to get this shit out of my cast.”
I keep my eyes on the ocean. South Padre is where I called home. Well, at least that's what the guys sitting beside me think. No one knows where I really live, and I’d never give that information up.
I would consider these guys friends, but only on the surface. They’re fake friends, if you will. Social interaction is a requirement in order to look normal.
I’m anything but normal. The guys sitting beside me are anything but normal.
We're all just keeping up appearances, being who those around us expect us to be. I’m sure my blond hair and tanned skin give off a surfer vibe because that’s the goal. The truth is, I can look like anyone I want, anyone I need to be, for whatever occasion I may encounter.
“Why won't you tell us about him?” Nash asks.
I don't even have to speculate on who he's referring to.
Angel Guerra.
The man is our boss. Not that Hollis and Nash have met him.
They haven’t, and I think that pisses them off a little.
I don’t know how I got an actual meeting with the man, but it was brief, lasting only a few minutes. The only reason I think he ever gave me the time of day after that meeting is because of what we have in common.
We don't work a regular nine-to-five job. What we do is dangerous.
Many would look at our profession and think that we're saviors, heroes.
But we're not.
I can't count how many times someone has looked up at me from a dirty floor after months of abuse, like I was Jesus walking the earth.
Taking time out of my life to make sure that others are safe isn’t why I do what I do, but I don't correct them.
That's not what they need at the time.
They don't need to be told that I'm there for a paycheck.
That I wouldn't bat an eye if I showed up in front of them, and they were dead.
I don't tell them that I would just walk away a little disappointed that I wasn't getting paid, but not heartbroken.
I don't internalize the bad jobs. We all have shitty days at work. It just so happens that my shitty days usually end up with someone dead.
Hell, I don't even celebrate the good jobs.
Work is just work.
“We all work for him,” Hollis says. “There's no reason you can't tell us what you know.”
Nash grunts his agreement.
“He's dangerous,” I tell them not for the first time. “Just do your damn jobs and leave the rest alone.”
“We're all dangerous,” Hollis argues, but the man has no idea.
I sigh in irritation, the sound getting lost on the ocean breeze.
“I only met him once,” I remind them.
Nash scoffs. “We all know how much you can tell about a person by just meeting them once.”
I look over at the two of them, wondering why I even showed up in the first place today.
“He’s deadly.” My eyes dart back and forth between the two of them so they know how serious I am. I’d never tell them how I know he’s deadly, but since Angel and I have had similar experiences, I know he has to be. You don’t survive what we did and walk away unchanged. “Not to be fucked with. Not to be researched. Not to be tracked. Just get your jobs, get them done, get paid, and leave it alone.”
I can tell by the look on both their faces that this isn't something they're going to give up on easily, and that makes them stupid and deserving of whatever they may get as a result.
But why should I care if they want to track Angel Guerra? If they want to end up dead on the side of the road, then who am I to stop that from happening?
“He met with you,” Hollis says, the sound of his voice like nails on the chalkboard, like a stubborn child who just won't take no for an answer. I have no doubt that Hollis is an only child, that he’s been given just about everything he’s ever wanted. I wouldn’t be surprised to discover the man only works for the thrills the job provides, for that adrenaline rush when you’re staring down the possibility of death, and how it makes you feel when you survive.
“You met him so you know more about him than we do,” Hollis continues.
“He's my boss just like he's your boss,” I tell him. “I haven't gone out of my way to find out information about him.”
That's the truth. I'm not gonna hunt Angel Guerra down. I'm not going to try to find out more about his life.