Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96206 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96206 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Two weeks later, he wasn’t interested anymore.
Why not? Dude, she isn’t coming back. Move the fuck on.
Good advice, especially since he was pretty sure he’d soon be hearing about Madison having kids with that stuffy blue blood. God, he was a stupid ass, because the thought of her in bed with the entitled prick made Matt homicidal. He really should get laid.
He just didn’t want to, not by Casey. Not by anyone else he could think of.
Just Madison.
How the fuck had she ruined him in forty-eight hours?
Matt sighed, grabbed a beer, downed half of it, then headed back to the window. She was out there, somewhere. Probably at some pompous, ten-thousand-dollar-a-plate fundraiser, rubbing elbows with people who would look down on him for making a living by his gun.
Fuck them. And fuck her. Whether he wanted to or not, he was going to fuck Casey tonight.
Retrieving his phone, he started to tap out a response when he suddenly heard a tap at his window that startled the hell out of him. He reared back, then saw a face on the other side of the glass. Ball cap, sunglasses, baggy T-shirt plastered to a slight frame. No distinguishing features or tattoos. At first glance, it looked like a teenage boy. But the face had a softness… Smooth, fair skin, gracefully arched brows, and a delicately sloped jaw.
Why the fuck would the kid be out in the pouring rain after ten o’clock at night? Hell, why would he avoid the covered porch, rather than knock on the front door?
The kid wouldn’t…unless there was trouble.
Matt unlocked the window and raised it a fraction, aware of his gun a mere split second from his grasp.
“Yeah?”
“Matt?”
That voice. Not a boy at all. Definitely a woman.
One he knew.
No, that was impossible. It couldn’t be… But a second glance had him rethinking his assessment.
Holy shit.
His heart slammed against his chest. “Madison?”
She gave him a shaky nod, then looked behind her as if she expected the bogeyman to jump her. “Yes. I’m sorry to barge in—”
“You’re not.” If she was here, if she was hiding in his bushes and disguising herself as she approached his house late at night in the rain, there was something terribly wrong. “What’s going on?”
“I-I need help, and I didn’t know anyone else I could trust.” She swallowed, and he saw the abject terror on her face. “My husband is trying to kill me.”