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)
Christian shot the stubborn woman a hard look. “I’m going to need twenty.”
“All right. Make it fifteen.” Dutch clicked off.
Christian cocked his head. “Why were you seen crawling out of Jarod’s window?”
She looked at the phone in his hand. “That was Dutch? What a tattletale. It’s none of your business what I was doing. Maybe I forgot my key. Jarod’s my fiancé. Right?”
None of this made a lick of sense. Her hair was matted with mud, her clothes soaked and clinging. She looked like she’d wrestled a bear. Her eyes still sparked with fight, and yet all he wanted to do was get her out of those muddy clothes, dry her off, and figure out what was breaking loose behind those unreadable looks she kept giving him.
Worse yet, he couldn’t stop worrying about her. She wasn’t his to worry about. But there was a part of him that wanted, really badly, to change that. And that part was getting stronger. Louder. More reckless. “Get your shit. I’m taking you to my place.”
“No,” she said flatly.
One defiant word. Just one. That was it. He ducked his head and tossed her over his shoulder.
“Hey,” she squawked, squirming.
He didn’t have the right to plant his hand on her ass, so he didn’t. But he was starting to think he wanted that right, so he snatched her purse off the counter, stomped out of the house, and headed toward her SUV that he’d driven from the bar after he’d fought with his brother.
“What are you doing?” she snapped over his shoulder.
He didn’t answer and instead plunked her into the front seat and fastened her seatbelt before she could stop him. He slammed her door and walked around to the driver’s side. “You shouldn’t leave your keys in the rig,” he muttered, sliding behind the wheel. Though truth be told, it had made it easier for him to borrow it.
“Why? It’s Knife’s Edge. Somebody steals it, I’ll know who they are.” She crossed her arms. “Sometimes people need to borrow it, like you just did.” She flipped her hair away from her face. “I’m not going to your place.”
He started the engine and then backed down the driveway. “You are. Because nobody knows it’s there, and it’s the only place I know you’ll be safe while I go deal with something with Dutch.” He glanced at her after that. She was curled against the door like a pissed-off cat. Still muddy. Still beautiful. “Then we need to have a serious talk.”
She crossed her arms, looking huffy and cute. Too damn cute. “I’m not talking to you about anything, Christian. Right now, you’re kidnapping me.”
There was a bit of truth to that statement. Even if he did just want to keep her safe. He kept telling himself he didn’t have the right. But someone had to do it. If she stayed by herself, she could get shot. Or worse. “When’s Jarod back in town?”
“I don’t know,” she snapped.
“Isn’t that something you should know? Since he’s your fiancé?”
She huffed and looked out the window.
What was going on?
He could see the way her jaw flexed, how her shoulders tensed just enough. Was she afraid of Jarod? She didn’t act like it. She wasn’t afraid of much, including him. So why was she marrying someone she didn’t even seem to like? Or maybe the problem was simpler and meaner. Maybe Christian just didn’t want her to want Jarod.
She ignored him as they drove.
He flipped off the lights. Once he got further away from her place and followed the path in the dark, he didn’t sense anybody following them. No headlights in the distance. No dust on the road behind. But he wasn’t taking any chances. Not with her.
She sat in the passenger seat, arms still folded, face turned toward the window like she’d rather be anywhere else. Her leg bounced once, then stilled. Mud cracked and flaked off her sleeve with every movement.
When they reached his place, he looked over at her. “Are you going to walk nicely inside or do you want another ride over my shoulder?”
“Screw you.” She released her seatbelt, opened the door, and slammed it harder than he had earlier.
His lips twitched despite himself. She really was cute.
He followed her inside and made sure the place was secure before dragging out the same T-shirt and socks from the other night. “Here. You can take a shower and use these. Tika is roaming around somewhere, so call out if you need him. There’s a nine-millimeter CZ in that drawer, and there’s a shotgun by the door. I don’t think anybody followed me. In fact, I’m pretty sure of it. But shoot anybody that’s not me.”
She lifted her chin. “Including Ace?”
“Definitely shoot Ace if he comes by,” Christian grumbled, heading toward the door. “Lock this behind me, and I’m not joking.” He paused at the door and turned to level her with a look. “Amka, when I get back, we’re having a talk.”