Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 100796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Could I make it to the drawer in time? I’d have to fire as soon as I had the gun, before Goran could pull his own. Don’t forget to check the safety. If it was still on when I tried to shoot, I’d lose valuable time. Thank God Konstantine had agreed to take me to the firing range when I’d asked years ago.
“Did you hear me?” His voice was annoyed because I’d stood stock-still, trying to figure out what to do.
I wasn’t ready to make the decision where either option could end my life. “I don’t feel like sitting.”
“I don’t remember asking.” Irritation flared in his cruel eyes and burned greater than the fire.
When it was clear I wasn’t going to move from my spot beside the desk, his expression hardened, and every molecule of air evaporated from the room as he charged forward.
“Please, don’t touch me,” I gasped, hating how weak I sounded, but my request did nothing to stop him. He dug a hand under my arm, squeezing the pressure point right above my elbow, and I wilted. His grip was intense, and nothing like Vasilije’s. The pain was flat, aching misery.
I was so stupid, and my inaction was going to get me killed. Why hadn’t I moved faster? Now that he had ahold of me, my opportunity was slipping away. I wasn’t going to waste one more second, or let another man put his hands on me when I didn’t want him to. As Goran began to tug me toward the couch, I struggled to break loose and latched my free hand on the edge of the solid desk.
“No!” I cried loudly. “Stop!”
I gripped so hard on the wood, my hand ached, and his squeeze on my arm tightened until it took every ounce of strength to keep from screaming. Footsteps pounded on the hardwood and approached rapidly. Whitney, coming to save me. If I could reach the gun, she’d witness the whole fucking thing.
The door swung open and—
Blyad!
Vasilije—not Whitney—rushed in. His gun was in hand and hung ready at his side, and his face was a mask of aggression. Goran and I froze at the same moment, and I watched as the younger Markovic took in the scene. He noted his uncle’s hand on my arm, switched the gun to his left, and then swung his right fist into the side of Goran’s head with a loud crack of flesh hitting flesh.
The impact knocked me free and I slammed both hands on the desk, stabilizing to stay on my feet. Goran said something in Serbian, which had to be a swear or two, as he stumbled to the side.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Vasilije demanded.
Goran cradled his head in his hand. The blow had shaken him, and done the same to me. Watching Vasilije punch his uncle had rocked my foundation. As he recovered, Goran reached for his gun.
“Before you do that,” Vasilije said, putting his own back in his dominant hand, “maybe consider how Luka’s gonna react.”
Whatever that meant, it did the trick, and Goran abandoned the idea of going for his weapon. But he was still full of rage. “You think you can put your hands on me, you little shit?”
“Well, you put your hands on my property first.”
His uncle’s eyes went so narrow they were mere slits. “Your property has no loyalty. The girl came on to me. She was all over my stick from the moment I got here.”
I choked at hearing the lie. “I didn’t!”
Vasilije didn’t look at me and he didn’t hesitate. “Not a chance.”
“You’re going to believe your Russian whore over me?”
Vasilije’s dark eyes sharpened. “When you’re lying? Yeah.” He squared his shoulders and widened his stance, preparing for a punch to be headed his direction. Yet, none came. “What the fuck are you doing in my house? Did you forget the system tells me when someone keys in?”
I suspected Goran hadn’t forgotten. He wanted Vasilije to come home and either find me gone, or catch me with his uncle. Goran took a long moment to respond. “I was curious how serious you are about her, or if Wednesday night was just an act for the Russians.”
“Are you fucking kidding? You could’ve just asked.”
“And I told you to get rid of her.”
Vasilije sighed. “Yeah, you did, but I don’t want to. I’m having fun, so she stays.” His voice was pointed. “I’ve always done what you wanted, and I deserve this. You owe me.” Unexpected amusement flickered over his face. “Come on, look at her. She’s harmless.”
I was so tense, I was fighting to keep my lunch down and couldn’t acknowledge his hidden meaning.
Goran’s expression was rigid. “I don’t owe you anything after that punch. You’re lucky I’m willing to let it go, but you need to stop thinking with your dick, and start using that brain your father gave you.”