Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
“That’s enough.” Tate lifted his chin in her direction. “Lucia, lower the weapons.”
“Who are you?” She steadied both guns, ticking her gaze between them.
Tate straightened from the doorframe and slowly closed the distance. His strides were slow but long, eating up the floor with muscled nonchalance. But there was nothing casual in the way he looked at her, those blue eyes seeking her most intimate places and setting her on fire from the inside out. He looked at her as though he were recalling the feel of being sheathed inside her, like he wanted to feel her again.
She took great pleasure in the knowledge that such a ridiculously handsome man was attracted to her. But the stupid, girly, instantaneous attachment she felt for him was an embarrassing sentiment, so very un-Lucia-like. What was her deal with this guy?
It had just been sex, really fucking good sex, with a beautiful stranger. She wasn’t here for a repeat.
She was here to save her sister from more heartache.
“Who are you?” she asked again.
Two feet away, Tate pressed his chiseled chest against the barrel of the gun. “I’m Camila’s best friend.”
He could’ve been lying, but there wasn’t a trace of deceit on his stunning face.
Everything inside her cried with joy. Not only was Camila alive, she had a strong, protective friend who cared for her enough to track down her only family.
It was more than Lucia could’ve ever wanted for Camila, and she felt the sudden need to sit down. Hard. But her arms and legs remained stubbornly locked.
“What about him?” She gestured at Van with the gun she trained on him.
“He’s…uh…” Tate gripped his nape, stalling, holding something back.
“He’s what?” Her stomach tightened.
Van lifted his chin, giving her the full force of his icy eyes. “I’m the one who kidnapped your sister.”
CHAPTER 10
Confusion spiked through Lucia, followed by furious understanding. This scary-looking, scarface motherfucker abducted her sweet, innocent, seventeen-year-old sister.
“What did you do to her?” She directed eleven years of pain into the scalding glare she aimed at Van.
A day hadn’t passed without the loss, the torment, and the dire unknowns that surrounded Camila’s disappearance. She hadn’t saved Camila from being taken, but dammit, she could avenge her, right now, with the squeeze of a trigger.
“You won’t shoot him,” Tate said quietly, his chest pushing against the other gun barrel. “Think about it. He captured Camila and me with the intent to sell us into slavery. Yet I’m here. Camila’s with Matias, and Van’s still alive. There’s a good reason for that.”
“He captured you?”
Tate nodded, his eyes growing heavy and dark. “Six years ago.”
“Put down the guns, little girl,” Van said, “and I’ll confess all my sins.”
She held her ground, seething with venom. “How dare you?”
“The weapons, Lucia.” Tate held out a palm. “Now.”
The command in his deep voice was meant to subdue her, but it was the compassion softening his eyes that urged her rage to creep back into the darkness and go dormant once again.
It took longer to lower the guns, but after a few calming breaths, she placed them in his huge hand. “Don’t make me regret this.” Please don’t abuse my trust.
He set the weapons aside and twined his fingers around hers. Then he steered her toward the bedroom. “Give us a minute, Van.”
In the bedroom, he left the door open and directed her to sit on the foot of the bed, out of view from the main room.
“We’ll tell you everything you want to know. Every secret. Every crime.” He pulled on a pair of jeans, zipped, and left the button undone. “But first, I want to make something clear.”
She stared at him, mesmerized. How could she not be? It wasn’t just his sculpted perfection. There was something extraordinary beneath the physical strength. Something in the tenderness of his touch, the vigilant way he watched her, the gentle inflections he wove into his commands. As if no matter how damaged or sick she was, he would still hold her hand, hold her close, and let her lean on him as hard and as long as she needed. He was that person.
She never had a person and didn’t know what to do with the warm feelings it soaked into her bones.
He perched on the mattress beside her and touched her face, studying her eyes.
“Tonight was…” He rested his forehead against hers and inhaled deeply. “I’m not going to label it. Just know that I didn’t fuck you as part of some scheme. I went to the club, willing to do exactly that to get you alone. To talk to you. But once I had you…”
He edged closer and dragged his nose along her neck, sniffing her. It was such a primal gesture, animalistic, and the reverberating groan in his throat produced a groan of her own.
Sliding her cheek against his, she indulged in the scratch of his whiskers. His proximity instilled her with an addictive sense of security—something she didn’t even know she craved until now.