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)
“What’s in the car?” Braxton asks, nodding to it.
“Do you have a search warrant?” Hawke bites back. When Braxton doesn’t answer, Hawke smiles, shakes his head, and gets in the car. “Little red, get in.”
“Little red?” Braxton asks curiously, and I can feel his intimate gaze tracing over me again. I ignore him and get in the car. It’s nice to see that Hawke sometimes has a brain or cares to listen. Though I’m sure, this has more to do with not wanting to show me what he really is beneath the mask.
Hawke doesn’t waste any time as he revs the engine and slowly backs up. A little tingle of curiosity makes me question what Braxton might look like if he got hit by the car and died. I haven’t seen that type of death yet.
I push the morbid inspiration down.
When Hawke drives past Braxton, he says out the window, “I wouldn’t show your face near her again.”
Braxton raises a brow, his deadly energy radiating off him. “I’m certain she’s as curious about me as I am her,” he says to Hawke, then he focuses his gaze on me. “I’ll be seeing you real soon, Shortcake.”
I flip him off and watch his reaction in the rearview mirror.
Hawke’s jaw is grinding as he growls, “That’s the detective, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I reply, still eyeing Braxton as he slides back into his car.
“Oh damn. You got yourself into some hot shit, little red.” He laughs.
I’m actually shocked at his reaction, but a small part of me feels almost gleeful. Like I’ve been accepted into some secretive little murderous group. Instead of him telling me to run to my father or ask for help, he’s accepting my terms to deal with it myself. And I’m grateful for it.
“It’s going to be fun watching you get out of this,” he says, checking the rearview mirror as he skids out onto the main road. “Though I really did want to hit him with my car.”
I try to hide the humor I find in the fact that we both had the same thought. Maybe I’m not so different from the killers in my family. And it’s a thrilling notion, not that I would ever admit it out loud.
“Just take me home,” I tell him.
CHAPTER 11
Braxton
I watch as the car drives off. There’s no point in hiding the fact that I was tracking her. After all, she basically handed me the information about her wanting to learn to shoot as if I wouldn’t be curious about it. Because why would someone who pretends to be so pure and innocent need to use a gun? I know she provoked me on purpose, trying to be lethal in her own way, but it only inflames my curiosity.
I wonder how deep a blood bond goes. I want to know how deadly the daughter of a killer might be. I can feel the gentle caress of her inner darkness every time I look into her blue eyes, and it calls to me like sin and destruction. I’m a fool for being charmed and drawn to her temptation, but what makes it so deliciously sweet is I don’t even think she knows she’s doing it.
She’s changed a lot since I first met her. Although Hope is still reserved and quiet, there’s a fire behind those eyes. That’s what drew me to her in the first place. There’s a part of her she wants to hide from the rest of the world, and for some reason, I can’t rest until I understand everything about her brilliant mind.
I should know better than to continue pursuing her. It could impact my job. I’m hiding behind the excuse of investigating her, which I am actually doing, but it goes beyond that. I want her.
I want to be so deeply embedded in her thoughts that the beautiful little monster unravels for me.
It’s sick and twisted, and I don’t entirely understand it, but I can’t stop. It’s the same curiosity one has when they see a fire and have to decide whether to let it burn out in its own time or add more fuel and find out how much it’s able to consume and destroy in its path.
Unfortunately, I’ve never been great at dousing flames. I’m fascinated by human behavior, and I find it the most delicious when it borders on the edge of losing humanity completely. I hope she burns the whole fucking house down.
Trouble. That’s what she is to me.
My partner is calling, but I ignore him. Technically, I’m supposed to have today off, but that means shit to us when there’s an ongoing case. He’s also picked up on my keen interest in Hope Ivanov. But for now, I have every intention of keeping that investigation private.
I get back into my car, smirking at my exchange with Hawke Ivanov. He’s fucking massive, built like a giant, and yet I can’t help but want to provoke him. The second he hits me, I’ll imprison him, and I can’t wait to see how Hope might react, how she’ll beg and plead for me to set him free. The idea of that power and control over her excites me.