Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 108616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
The door opened. Mr. E and Van exited first. When Liv stepped through to follow, Mr. E pivoted, grabbed her throat with two hands, and shoved her back against the door jamb. Her mouth gaped, gulping without sound, hands clawing at the ones on her neck.
Josh leapt forward, pulse racing, a roar bellowing from his chest. “You’re choking her.” He tried to break the grip, yanking on unmovable wrists.
The barrel of a gun moved into his vision. Van jerked it at his face. “Move back. All the way into the room.”
Liv stretched her jaw, her eyes squeezed shut, tears leaking down her red face.
“Let her go.” Josh’s heart thundered, his voice thick with spit. “You’re going to kill her.”
“Step. Back.” Van’s tone was steady, but his eyes shifted rapidly between Mr. E and Liv, as if warring with whose side he was on.
Oh God, she couldn’t breathe. He was going to choke her to death. Josh shuffled back, hands in the air.
With a violent heave, Mr. E slammed her head into the jamb and tossed her limp body onto the floor at Josh’s feet.
Josh dropped to his knees and put his ear over her chest, then her mouth. Unconscious, she lay listless, her breaths labored. He didn’t know CPR, had no medical training. What was he supposed to do?
Van lowered the gun, his muscles flexing, his teeth bared, but he made no move to help.
“You’re not going home, boy.” Mr. E clutched the door handle. “You were never going home.”
Deep down, he knew it. Didn’t stop the pain from splintering his chest. He turned her head and followed the river of blood to the cut on her scalp. Head wounds bled a lot, right? Did she need stitches? “She needs a doctor.”
“She needs to do her job. You meet your future Master in two days. If you want her to live, you’ll kiss him with ardor and skill. You’ll grab your ankles if he wants to test drive your ass. You’ll be fucking willing and obedient.”
The door slammed shut, shaking loose the last forgiving piece of Josh’s heart and replacing it with a sharp-edged thirst for blood. Mr. E and Van seemed to be using her in the most vicious way. Maybe she could outsmart them, but she wouldn’t need to do it alone.
As he carried her to the vanity to search for a medical kit, he glared at the door. God was neither hot tempered nor did He rush to judgment. Josh could be patient, but when the time came and God delivered those bastards before him, he would defeat them. He would utterly destroy them.
Chapter 21
Something warm and hard and decidedly alive lay beneath Liv’s body, coaxing her awake. Her throat throbbed, and a pounding ache fired through her skull. She was face down with her cheek on a brick chest of muscle, which could only belong to the boy. She tried moving her arms, dragging them along with her thoughts from the comfort of oblivion.
Mr. E’s hands on her throat. The impending meeting with the buyer. Her phone.
She snapped her eyes open and met the fathomless green of the boy’s gaze.
His hands skimmed heat along her back beneath the blanket, his thumb tracing the length of her spine. “Good morning.” His voice was raspy, relaxed. “Or afternoon. Or whenever it is.”
Her stomach told her it was afternoon. She pushed against the cotton covering his shoulders. He was dressed, and by the scratchy feel of her skin against his jeans, she wasn’t wearing a damned thing.
He watched her closely, his hypnotic eyes and sensual mouth producing a tremor through her aching body. She struggled to drag her attention away from the masculine lines of his chiseled face, the thick mess of black hair, the defined cheekbones. The sudden and intense longing to be cared for by him filled her with dangerous hope. She would address that—all of that—as soon as she gathered her strength.
She pushed again to sit, but the hands on her back held her in place with gentle determination.
“Easy. How are you feeling?”
Her whole fucking body hammered like the aftermath of one of Van’s training sessions when she was a slave.
She reached up, flinching as her fingers met the lump beneath her hair. “Let me go.” Her command came out hoarse and thready, blazing more pain through her throat.
“Nope.” Holding her with an unyielding arm, he reached to the floor and lifted a glass of water to her mouth.
He let her arch up enough to tilt her head back. The first gulp over-flexed the bruised muscles in her throat, reigniting the burn. She continued to drink, scanning the room. “Where’s my phone?”
He studied her, eyebrows shifting downward. “Why?”
Mom and Mattie. If Mr. E wanted to further punish her for the previous night, he’d give her the news in a text. A sinking feeling pulled on her insides. “My phone. Please.” His gaze narrowed. Yeah, her tone was desperate. She was begging. “Please?”