Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
“Shame I had to ruin this piece of art,” I sigh.
I kick him in the gut before I hit him with the bat again. I place it carefully on the island. “I’m pretty pissed about having to use a weapon,” I say, gripping him by the collar and pummelling his face until crimson circles his head like a fucked-up halo.
I grip Brike’s hair and haul his head back, ensuring his eyes are glued to me as I dip my fingers in his blood and suck them clean. “Brike, who do you think the OG hot-head psycho was in the neighborhood? Who could fuck a man up for simply breathing in his direction?”
Rising, I keep my grip on Brike’s hair and drag him toward the fish tank. “Hope you’re hungry, boys.”
“No,” Brike slurs as he desperately tries to squirm out of my grasp. “No, man. I’m sorry. I won’t say shit. Just let me go.”
“Thing is, Brike. You disrespected me by breaking into my home, and I am a man who prides himself on making an example of anyone who dares to disrespect me.”
Yanking him by the head, I bring him over to the aquarium and smile. “This way, any other motherfucker who comes my way will know what awaits them.”
He thrashes as I hold his head in the tank, watching as the fish open wide and satiate their hunger with chunks of Brike’s flesh.
His nose bobs past in the water as chunks of his skin and blood flood the tank. “This is gonna have to do for a while, boys, so eat up.”
Once Brike stops squirming, I leave his prone body leaning over the tank and return to the kitchen. I pull out one of the burners and text the only number in the contacts.
Clean up. My place. I’m going to one of the safe houses. I’ll text you with instructions when I’m on the road.
Chapter Eleven
ISLA
Bryce rushed me out of his apartment in the middle of the night. He didn’t give me a choice, shoving clothes at me and ushering me into a black sedan.
The drive is long, and the view is full of picturesque nature. I’m pretty sure we’re going somewhere upstate.
“What’s this place,” I ask as Bryce opens the car door.
He grips my hand and helps me out of the car. “It’s a safe house.”
“Why do we need a safe house?”
“Because we weren’t safe,” he says dryly, and I can’t help but laugh.
“You’ve got a pretty laugh. You should do it more often.”
“Then give me something to laugh about.”
He smirks and tugs my hand. “I plan to.”
I take in the vast landscape of sugar maples, white oaks, flowering dogwoods, and eastern white pines. A cozy log cabin with a wide wrap-around porch is nestled in the middle of all the lush trees. “This place is breathtaking.”
“It’s not bad, is it? I forgot how peaceful it is up here. Haven’t been here in ten years.”
I stalled as we walked, forcing Bryce to turn around and stare at me blankly. “What’s wrong?”
“You own a place like this and haven’t been back in ten years?” I gape at the beautiful view. “If I owned a property like this, I’d never leave.”
“You like it? Once I get shit done, it’s yours.”
“What?”
“You can have it.”
This man is an anomaly. He’s deranged. That much is clear by how he beat his own child without blinking an eye. But he’s also kind. I’ve never met anyone who’s shown me compassion. I didn’t expect him to hold me the way he did after my nightmare, but I’d desperately needed the comfort. He could’ve done all kinds of ungodly things to me, but from the moment I stepped into his home, he’s kept me safe. I’ve never felt safe before.
Bryce unlocks the door to the log home and holds it open for me to step inside. “Aren’t you going in?”
“Ladies first.”
I don’t know why, but that simple, inconsequential act of chivalry makes my body hot, and I’m sure my cheeks are beet red. “Thank you,” I whisper as I move past him, unable to meet his gaze.
“You look cute when you blush.”
I spin, shocked at his observance of my nervousness. “I’m not blushing.”
“I’m sure that pretty pink on your cheeks isn’t makeup.”
“I’m just hot,” I lie to hide my embarrassment.
He shuts the door behind him and walks toward the open kitchen, discarding his keys on the counter. “It’s sixty-five degrees out.”
“I overheat easily.”
He opens the fridge, pulls out a bottle of water, and lifts it to his mouth. My eyes focus on the fullness of his lips. He smirks. One of his eyebrows rises on his perfect face before he steps toward me. “You must be parched”—he winks—“from all the heat.”
Is he flirting with me?
“Um, some water would be nice.”
I tremble as he holds the bottle to my mouth. My lips part, and he tilts it until the cold water trickles down my throat. I don’t know what it is about the act, but my body is about to combust. My mind tells me to run fast and far. And just like that, the heat in my body is doused with ice as I get my bearings and come to my senses. This man is dangerous. Lethal. He killed another man in the most heinous way and didn’t show a glimmer of remorse.