Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 27182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
“Are you hurt?”
God, that voice… It’s got such a profound effect on me that I can’t seem to answer for a second or two.
“I’m fine,” I say, not quite sure that I believe it.
He looks me over one more time just to be sure and I start to blush, heat blooming inside of me. When he doesn’t see any blood or any other signs of injuries, he turns his attention to the junkie scrambling to grab his knife.
“Watch out!” I scream when I see him grab it. He holds the blunt blade up with a shaky hand as he gets to his feet.
Emmanuel doesn’t look scared at all. He looks eager for whatever is about to happen as he faces the man with his hands squeezed into fists.
This is a real man. Broad shoulders, muscular back, alpha energy radiating off him in droves. And not the fake alpha energy of those pickup truck driving losers who think they’re edgy because they wear an Affliction t-shirt and write mean things on Twitter.
This man is in complete control of the situation—of any situation he’s in. He’s a beast of an alpha. He’s a real man. One who protects, defends, and from the looks of it, punishes.
“Get back,” the goon screeches, waving his knife around. “I’m leaving!”
Emmanuel steps forward, that big sexy jaw clenched tight. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Angelo’s goon lunges forward, swinging that knife in warning, but it doesn’t have the desired effect. Not even close.
Emmanuel is bigger, smarter, and faster. He closes the distance in a blur and grabs the guy’s scrawny wrist. The guy squeals as Emmanuel squeezes hard. So hard the knife drops onto the ground. Emmanuel kicks it away and then slams him into the dumpster with a boom so loud it echoes down the dark alley.
“Why are you following my girl?” Emmanuel hisses into his face.
My girl… I swallow hard, wondering why he said that, wondering why it feels so wonderful to hear…
“I wasn’t!” the guy screams, tears welling in his eyes. “I don’t know this bitch!”
He screams as Emmanuel bends his wrist the wrong way. I close my eyes and cover my ears before I can hear the sickening crack.
“Give me the names and addresses of everyone in town looking for her,” Emmanuel growls.
“No one is looking for her,” he squeals. “I swear it!”
Emmanuel punches him in the face hard—once, twice, three times. He holds him up by his jacket as the man’s legs give out.
“I want names,” Emmanuel growls as blood pours down the goon’s chin from his broken nose and split lip.
“You’re a fucking cop!” the guy shrieks, shielding his bloody face with his shaking hands. “I have rights!”
Emmanuel releases him and steps back. He never takes those smoldering eyes off him as he unhooks his badge from his massive chest and then tosses it onto the ground. His shirt comes off next—right over his head, and I’m treated to another show of this beautiful man in a sleeveless undershirt. Somehow his tattooed arms look even larger in the moonlight.
Next, he unbuckles his belt where his gun and taser are secured, and tosses it beside the door to the restaurant.
I know I’m in danger and this is not the time for dirty thoughts, but holy hell. This man is making it very difficult for me to stay focused.
“I’m not a cop now,” Emmanuel says, spreading his thick arms out wide. “I’m on break. So, we don’t have to worry about any rules, laws, or rights.”
“You’re a fucking psycho,” he says, scrambling to his feet.
“You attacked my girl.”
My girl. He said it again. It sounds better every time.
The guy lunges for his knife again, but Emmanuel is too fast. He descends on him like a force of nature. It’s like watching a bull fighting a goat.
Angelo’s goon gets a few punches in, but they don’t seem to have any effect on Emmanuel except to make his punches come out harder and faster. I stare in awe at his muscles all rippling and flexing in the moonlight. It’s visual poetry. It’s pure erotic desire.
The goon falls to his knees and Emmanuel grabs a fistful of his hair, his other hand cocked back in a fist.
“Okay! Okay!” he screeches with shaking hands up, surrendering completely. “Stop!”
“Where are they?” Emmanuel growls.
“I don’t know,” he says, “but they left! Angelo is coming back on Thursday night. I fucking swear!”
“If I find out you’re lying,” Emmanuel says, “I’ll bury you under that mountain.”
“I’m not!” he shouts, his fearful eyes pleading. “He’s coming back on Thursday to steal the dog and hurt the girl!”
“She’s under my protection,” Emmanuel says, pointing at me. “If any of you fuckers enter my town again, I’ll kill you with a smile on my face. You understand me?”
“Yes,” he says, sobbing.
“Go back to the rat hole you crawled out of,” Emmanuel says, slamming him into the dumpster one last time. “And don’t ever come back.”