Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
“It’s you. It’s been you. I want you. Yeah, the respectability of being engaged and then married to the town's golden girl is definitely appealing, but we’re in this together. You and me, and you're not going anywhere.” He jerked her toward him and pressed a hard kiss against her lips.
She struggled and nearly dropped as more pain slashed through her ribs.
He kissed her harder, reaching for the hem of her shirt. She struggled, panicking. He’d tried this once before, and she’d shut him down. “Stop.”
“No.” He yanked her closer.
She shifted to the side and brought up her knee, nailing him in the groin.
He coughed and released her, shoving her. “Damn it. Bitch. All women want it and just don’t realize it. You will.” He stepped back, his face an angry red. “I'm moving in this weekend, so get used to it.” He turned and walked to the door, opened it, then looked over his shoulder. “We are going to be married in every possible way.” He slammed the door.
As he left, she sank onto the sofa and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
What was she going to do? He was getting more and more sexually violent.
As hard as it was to admit, she had thought about dropping his ass in a creek. She probably couldn’t kill anybody, but it was tempting. Still, the blackmail he had on her was real, and if she made the wrong move, it would get out. Somewhere, somehow, it was waiting to be released.
She picked up her phone, needing to talk to somebody. The problem was, she didn’t know who.
The line clicked. “Hello?” A very sleepy Doc May answered.
“Hi, May. Do you have a minute?” Amka asked.
“Of course. Are you hurt?”
“My ribs are killing me,” she admitted, pressing a palm against her side like it might help.
May’s voice sharpened. “Okay, I’ll meet you down at my office—”
“No. I’ll come to you.” Amka was already headed back for her raincoat and her green knit hat. It was cold out there. “I need to talk.”
Chapter 6
The cocking of a pistol stopped Christian as he slipped halfway into his brother’s cabin. He grinned. “You heard me?”
“No. Felt a disturbance,” Ace mumbled.
Christian moved all the way inside to see his brother sprawled on the threadbare sofa, gun in hand. A fire roared in the wood stove behind him, warming the entire cabin. “You’re slurring a bit too much to be holding a gun on me.”
Ace snorted and placed the weapon on the crumbling sofa table next to him. A nearly empty bottle of Jack, no glass, also took residence there. “I figured you’d be by one of these days.” His light green eyes were bloodshot and his brown hair stood on end. But he’d shaved, and his newest scar showed from his jawline down to his collarbone. A scar he had yet to explain.
Chances were it came from crashing that military jet a year or so ago, but who the hell knew? “I thought you quit drinking.”
Ace snorted and stretched his legs onto the dusty coffee table, knocking over several empty beer cans. “I only stop when the bottle goes dry, brother.”
“All right,” Christian said amiably.
Ace’s gaze narrowed. “All right?”
“Yep. If you’re going to be a total dumbass, I guess it’s time to drag your ass to Smitty.” The guy was the closest thing they had to a shrink in Knife’s Edge, considering he’d worked as a bartender for sixty years. “Let’s go.” He flexed his hands, ready to start throwing punches.
Anticipation quirked Ace’s full lips. “Much as I’d like to go a couple of rounds, Smitty went to visit a friend in Anchorage. He left earlier this morning.”
Christian stilled. “Two questions. How do you know that, and who’s flying the plane?”
“Smitty dropped by on the way to town to bring me a pie, and I guess the Thombley brothers are flying the routes around here.”
Ah. Smitty baked great pies. “Did he shrink your head?”
“Tried to, but he was swearing up a storm when he left, so I think he failed.” Ace slowly grinned when Christian looked toward the messy kitchen. When had he cleaned this place last? Hank would hate the mess. “I already ate the pie.”
Asshole. “You know the Thombley brothers are jackasses who don’t take enough safety precautions. Come on, Ace. We need you back up in the air.” Would it make sense to just force his brother into a plane? Christian could do it, although he might need Brock’s help. Would Brock go along with that idea?
“No.” Ace reached for the bottle.
Christian kicked out, nailing the glass. It flew behind the sofa and crashed. Glass splintered loudly across the wooden floor. “No more,” he growled.
Ace dropped his bare feet to the floor. “That just wasn’t nice, C.” He crossed his arms. “You gonna break all of my bottles?”