Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 61149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Perhaps even repositioning it.
However, the instant her vision hoods, I know exactly what’s happening.
What she’s attempting to do.
Lewd, dramatic moans begin filling my stable space while she slowly sways her head back and forth.
Back and forth.
Cracks her mouth wider and teases her tongue to her top lip and whimpers, “Brad…”
Punishment.
Pure and fucked up punishment.
I always thought the moments I witnessed like this when I would stumble around their manor in a drug infused haze trying to leave weren’t real.
That she wasn’t forcing her son to watch her with his father.
That she wasn’t scolding him between groaning his name.
His name.
Not her husband’s.
Never her husband’s.
And the even more fucked up thing was this sick, twisted disciplining worked.
Oh!
How about one more item for that “fucked up” row?
Whenever I asked about what I swore I saw, what I knew I saw even in my mentally sluggish state, he would swear I was hallucinating from not enough sleep or too much caffeine.
He was a sick fuck because he was raised by one.
And my baby will never endure what he did.
Even if death for us becomes the only option to guarantee that.
Chapter 18
Nolan
“See,” Demián haughtily chortles from the other side of the video chat, “you should’ve just become a doctor if you were gonna play one anyway.”
“Really?” Huffs Garcia from the kitchen chair he’s parked in. “You wanna start that shit now, Dad?”
“Focus,” I grouse at the same time I fold my arms across my chest.
He nods, removes his fingers, and announces, “His heart rate seems normal.”
“Temperature?” the actual doctor swiftly inquires.
“Normal.”
“Breathing?”
“That’s what I’m concerned about,” states the man I don’t know how to fucking thank for saving my fiancé’s fucking life.
Seriously.
I don’t give a shit what he wants.
Money.
Maintenance.
To name our first fucking born.
Whatever.
And I don’t give a fuck what Kid has to say in this instance since without Garcia he’d be dead.
Part of me would be dead.
Our son would only have one father when he should have two.
“I’m fine,” hisses the stubborn pain in the ass beside me.
“They beat you within an inch of your life, Woods. You’re not fine.”
“You’re not a doctor.”
“No, but he is, remember?” Garcia bitterly bites on a point of his finger to his phone that’s being sloppily propped up against some random car mags.
Another hiss precedes him shifting in his seat. “We don’t need to be focused on me! We need to find Bunny! We need to find out where they took her!”
“Who took her?” cautiously investigates Demián.
“One nightmare at a time,” murmurs Garcia while shaking his head. “And this nightmare-”
“I’m not a fucking nightmare!”
“Dealing with you right now certainly is.”
“Fuck you!”
“Fuck you, you ungrateful little shit! I just saved your fucking life!”
“I was fine!”
There’s no hesitation in me grabbing a fist full of his disheveled hair and yanking it back so that his glare meets mine. “You weren’t fuckin’ fine, Kipp. You were almost dead.” I let the last word hang undeniably in the air until the faintest line of tears begins to rim his eyes. “I need you alive.” Flashing him the engagement ring they left behind occurs next. “Our woman needs you alive.” Noticeable trembling begins in his jaw. “Our son needs you alive.” This time a single tear rolls down his grease stained face. “So, please, just put your pissiness in park and let Garcia do whatever he’s gotta do to help keep you that way.”
A long lull passes before he nods.
“Words, Kipp.”
“Yes, Sir.”
The sexy yet sweet reminder prompts me to lean over, lovingly place my lips to his forehead, and briefly let my eyes shut.
How the fuck is this possible?
How the fuck did I go from having the whole world to all of it nearly being wiped out?
How the fuck did I go from my biggest problem being my nuts freezing off to my reasons for living almost being gone?
How the fuck did that mother cunt damn near take us all out of the race?
How did we not see that fucking coming?
How did we not see a flag waving?
How could I not have been more prepared?
Why the fuck hadn’t I done more?
How the fuck did I leave Kid so fucking open to be rearended?
Sideswiped?!
How could we let that shit happen to Rabbit after swearing to her we wouldn’t?!
How the fuck can we not know where she is?!
And how the fuck am I supposed to do any kind of thinking – fuck planning – with Kid possibly dying?!
When I finally pull back and open my eyes once again, he offers me a faint grin alongside a whispered, “I’m okay, Nolan. Fresh off the lot promise.”
“Can you just fuckin’ humor me then?” I release the hold and allow my fingers to lovingly run through his locks. “Let him check on those ribs?”
“What happened to his ribs?” quickly questions Demián. “Slip and fall? Doesn’t take much ice for that to happen.”