Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
The frame was far too bent on the door side, so I went to the back of the car and ripped off my coat, using it to clear as much of the glass from the rear window as possible and then laid it down to cover the ragged edges.
“Come on, babygirl,” I coaxed. “Let’s get you out of there.”
She nodded, still not looking straight at me, almost seeming to see right through me as she un-clicked her seat belt and fell to the roof of the car.
I reached in and pulled her out, hugging her frail, shaking body to my chest as she cried, still clasping the bag to her chest.
The driver of the car kicked out the windshield and crawled out. He took one look at me and turned and started running. A wise man would have gunned him down, but my hands were full. Marina was my only priority.
It didn’t matter; Damien was right behind him taking care of it.
I held Marina carefully, wrapping her in my arms and just letting her cry for a moment as I carried her away from the wreckage and toward the Mercedes.
After a few moments, her sobs calmed. I put her on her feet, my hands staying on her shoulders to steady her.
“This is all your fault,” she said, her voice cracking. “You did this to me. You attacked the car, you shot out the tire, you’re the reason he found me in the first place. All of this is your fault. You led him right to me and then you let him take me. Why did you let him take me?”
Her voice was shaking as it ramped up to hysterical screaming.
She cried over and over, asking why I had let all of this happen.
The words to defend myself were on the tip of my tongue.
I wanted to explain, but I deserved her anger and her rage.
She was right.
All of it was my fault.
Her fists rained down on my chest over and over as she took out her frustration by beating me.
I let her. I would take whatever punishment she deemed appropriate.
This was all my fault.
Had I tended to business with Veronika, kept a more careful eye on who she was allowed to see, kept her away from Soloyov, this whole series of events wouldn’t have been set in motion.
Marina wouldn’t have been placed in a position of having to run for her life.
She was in danger because I couldn’t hold everything together.
And when it all fell apart, I said I was going to protect her. I made her that oath even if she didn’t know it, and then I let them take her.
She was only ever in that hotel room because I put her there and then I allowed two rookie guns for hire to take her out of my room and hand her to Solovyov’s psychotic dog.
I let her be taken.
Everything that had happened was completely on me and I would never forgive myself for it.
It wasn’t her recklessness that had put her in danger; it wasn’t even her sister’s impulsive nature that had done this to her. I did it.
Over and over, her fist pounded on my chest while she screamed her accusations at me.
She blamed me and she was right to.
“It’s all your fault. My sister is dead because you couldn’t protect her,” she wailed. “They found me because you led them straight to me. Then you let them take me. How could you? How could you? And for what? This bag filled with dirty money? That’s all you wanted. So take it.”
She hit me with the bag, over and over, until finally her voice cracked and she crumpled against my chest.
I wrapped my arms around her and just held her to me as she sobbed.
Every pained cry that came from her body cut deeper, her tears pouring salt into every single wound.
“I almost died,” she whispered. “He was going to do things to me he—” Marina dissolved into another fit of tears.
“We need to go,” Damien said, pulling my attention from Marina. “The cops are on their way and there’s only so much footage the police commissioner can delete from body cams.”
I nodded and picked Marina up in my arms, cradling her tiny shaking body to my chest again as I carried her the rest of the way back to the Mercedes.
Damien grabbed the bag and followed.
A better man would have put her in the back seat, buckled her seat belt and then gone to the front.
I didn’t deserve to comfort her. I had put her in danger, and I had failed her in a way that was so profound she should have hated me.
But I couldn’t let her out of my arms.
I couldn’t bear the thought of not being the one that held her and comforted her.