Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Letting him get too close is a mistake. One I can’t stop making.
He sees me. The woman I pretend to be, and the one behind the mask. And for the first time, I don’t know which version is real.
Even though I’ve spent my life in the shadows, I’ve never been conflicted about who I am…until he blurred the lines. The thought of him seeing my darkness does something to me.
He makes me want things. Things I can’t have.
A life that isn’t mine to take.
A love built on lies.
A all-new Standalone in the Vengeful Lies series.
From USA Today and Amazon Top 25 Best Selling Author duo, a new Standalone Dark Romance in the same world as the Lethal Vows
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER 1
Hope
I know it’s wrong. I shouldn’t be here. But I got sucked into it anyway. Charlotte runs off, laughing with a concoction of too much alcohol and adrenaline pumping through her veins. I try to catch up to her, but I’m tired, and there’s also way too much alcohol in my system.
I want to sleep.
“Hope, you better run, girl,” she yells from too far ahead of me.
I wave her off and decide fuck it I don’t care. It’s not that I’m unfit, but I don’t care for running even if we’re being chased. Charlotte looks back once but doesn’t stop as she runs through Central Park in the dark. I huff, defeated as I drop to the wet grass and lie back, soaking my jeans.
Trying to catch my breath, I don’t even hear their footsteps approach until they come to a stop and bark a command.
“On your feet, miss,” one of the two men says.
Oh, fuck me. Let me catch my breath first.
“Can’t a girl rest?” I whine, not even opening my eyes.
“Now,” the second voice says, far more lethal than the first.
I huff and open my eyes. Yep, definitely the same two police officers—the ones Charlotte stole from—are looming over me. While I lie here like a fool. Honestly, I didn’t realize what she was doing until she grabbed something and yelled for me to run.
“You can’t tell me what to do.” I scrunch my nose at them. The first officer, whose wallet Charlotte stole, is shaking his head, clearly pissed. The second one, who is tall and built like a military man, is wearing a hat that covers his eyes.
“Of course we can,” he says and then shoves his hand into his pocket and pulls out a badge, flashing it at me. I narrow my eyes at it. To be honest, it’s a little bit blurry, and I know it has nothing to do with my wet glasses and everything to do with the too many margaritas, which is not a problem, in my opinion.
“That’s fake,” I say, being ignorant.
“No, it’s not,” he argues.
“It totally is. “Would you believe me if I pulled one out right now? I doubt it.” I argue back.
“Fucking hell, woman, where is the wallet?” He huffs, putting his badge back in his pocket. I lie back down and look up at the dark sky, pushing my glasses up my nose so they don’t fall off.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say, too tired for this. My legs are heavy, and I have a stitch in my side. Okay, maybe I’m not as fit as I thought.
“Cuff her,” he tells the second officer.
“Don’t you dare touch me,” I seethe, my eyes flying open.
The one with the cap has a slight smirk as he leans down to grab me. He pulls me up by my wrist, but I shove back, immediately landing back on my ass. Fuck, those margaritas went straight to my head.
“Jesus, how drunk are you?” the first cop scoffs.
I look away, indignant, despite my current messy state. “That’s none of your business. And if you don’t step back, I’ll scream.”
“Good, scream,” he says as the officer in the cap attempts to cuff me again. When he reaches for my hands, I move quickly, trying to get back to my feet. Apparently, it was too quickly because my head spins, and I fall again.
Fuck me. Was it the margaritas or extra tequila shots we had? How many did I have?
They both start laughing, and that makes me even more mad. “Put your hands behind your back,” Mr. Authority with the hat says.
“Fuck off,” I snap back.
“I don’t remember you having this much attitude. You seemed far tamer back then,” cap cop notes.
What?
I’m suddenly lifted up, and before I can ask what he means, my hands are cuffed behind my back. I try to fight it, break them apart, but my shoulders scream. To say I’m not fit is an understatement, but this is sobering. If only I ran a little longer. Then again, looking at the heights and builds of the two men, and me only coming in at five foot three, they have the advantage.
“You don’t know me. I don’t associate with police,” I spit. He seems to find that hilarious, laughing as he half drags me through Central Park because my legs keep crossing over one another.
I try a few times to fall backward to avoid the inevitable. He grabs the cuffs and lifts me again. It hurts. “I can throw you over my shoulder and carry you instead if your legs are suddenly broken,” Mr. Authority taunts. His partner is walking slightly ahead of us now.
“Be my guest. But don’t bitch when I bite at your throat,” I growl as I stand on my feet again.
“I might like it, Shortcake, so be careful what threats you’re making.”