Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
I’m at a loss. Reduced to begging this demon for a miracle because I don’t think he’s capable of mercy.
He looks at me flatly.
I think I see what makes his gleaming green eyes so different from mine and Ros’ now.
Unlike ours, his are totally empty.
Soulless.
His smile, a horrible clown mask splitting his face until it looks like plaster cruelty.
“Liar,” he spits. “I know when I’m outgunned. Well. Not literally.” He taps Nell’s shoulder with the pistol and she cringes. My gut bottoms out every time his finger shifts. “The moment I put the gun down, you’ll charge me. Two against one is hardly fair, is it?”
Shit.
I don’t know what to do.
I have to talk my way out of this. I have to buy time. If I just have a few more minutes—
Except I don’t need them.
Because the next time I breathe, the odds are three against one.
My heart leaps as Grant comes vaulting over the railing behind Aleksander, a wild man with his face bristling with protective rage.
I’m not breathing as over two hundred pounds of pure grizzly force barrels down on Aleksander Arrendell like a tank.
25
ONE WAY TO SKIN A CAT (GRANT)
Never.
Never in my life have I felt anything like the murderous rage scalding my veins the instant I hear my little girl’s scream.
I don’t even remember how I got on the fucking yacht.
I know I meant to jump for the lifeboats bolted halfway down the hull—a target I can actually reach without someone holding the wheel steady for me—but I don’t remember actually doing it.
One second, Nell’s voice sliced through my heart.
Then the gun.
Ask me if I care.
Now, all I can see is Aleksander Arrendell’s back—and then nothing but a smear of color as I slam into him like a freight train.
“Nell!” Ophelia cries.
It happens faster than I can blink.
Nell rushing into Ophelia’s arms.
Ophelia grabbing her, pulling her and Ros toward the wheelhouse and safety—right before Aleksander’s bony damn elbow snaps back at my face.
My nose cracks.
My vision explodes in a surge of white.
Pain bursts over me like a roaring waterfall.
Of course, that doesn’t stop me from reaching, from grabbing him, from catching his shitty fucking tux.
He’s all dressed up with nowhere to go except down.
And he howls, cursing like a wounded beast.
I pry my eyes open, vision hazed with pain, and fling myself at him again.
Again.
I’m a human wrecking ball.
The only thing that matters is demolishing this asshole.
I throw him to the ground and grab for his wrist, his gun.
I can’t risk it.
Let him hurt me all he wants, but if that gun goes off and strikes one of my girls—
“You ridiculous brute,” he grinds out, writhing under me like an eel. His knees jab my gut, throwing me off-balance, pushing me back, but I won’t stop. “You’re ruining the entire thing!”
“Get fucked,” I snarl.
I have to take a risk, it’s the only way.
I let go of his wrist—and then plow my fist into his face like an angry god.
Blood explodes everywhere.
Aleksander lets out a cry that’s pure shock before the pain hits his brain. Then all he can do is make this gurgling sound.
His hand tightens convulsively on the gun.
Wrenching his arm, I slam it down on the deck, but the shot goes off.
It’s deafening and just ahead of another noise.
Crashing glass.
Shit.
Then the yacht stops so abruptly we’re flung apart.
He goes skidding toward the railing, the gun spinning after him.
I hit the floor, landing hard on my shoulder, then roll and take a leap, snatching at the gun, scrambling for it with both hands.
I catch it just as the engine dies with a shuddering groan.
I’m falling to my knees, flicking the safety on the pistol, while Aleksander flails up against the deck railing.
I’m winded as I glower at him.
“Fucking stand up. Hands behind your back!”
“Oh, fuck you, pig,” he says, lying there awkwardly, his face streaked in blood and contorted with hate. “You—”
The yacht’s engine growls to life again.
The boat goes jolting forward.
I let out a startled groan, rocking unsteadily while Aleksander screams.
The sudden momentum shoves him through the bars of the deck railing.
Overboard.
Dammit.
I can’t decide if I’m relieved or pissed at the tiniest chance he could escape. We have to get him the hell out of the water before he has any bright ideas.
I drop the gun and bolt to my feet, rushing to the railing, looking for him.
Just in time to see his garish white tuxedo and that stark blond hair disappear into the churning waves.
Followed by an ugly bloom of crimson.
The yacht shudders and stops again.
A minute later, a lifeless shape, mangled almost beyond recognition appears.
He’s nothing but shattered limbs floating face down, bobbing up to the surface.
“Oh my God, the engine. I-I didn’t mean to do that!” Ophelia calls from the wheelhouse, her voice hollow.
I look up and nod.
Nobody’s gonna mourn one less psycho, murdering asshole sucking up oxygen, especially me.