Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
What. The. Actual. Fuck?
After I finished in the office, I went to help the girls in the bar, but after screwing up three separate orders, I called it a night. I was just wasting money remaking all the drinks. Now it’s barely even 8 p.m., and for the first time since opening Black Velvet, I’m on my way home.
I wander through the streets, dragging my feet as I replay it in my head on repeat. The way he so casually walked up to the door, the way he stepped away from the peephole and took out his gun. The way he stood in front of that man, raised his hand, and pulled the trigger with no hesitation. He didn’t even flinch. There was no emotion. No freaking out. Just a simple squeeze of the trigger as though murdering people in cold blood is nothing but work to him.
It wasn’t reckless and messy like the murders you see described on TV, the ones where a man loses his shit and goes on a rampage, hacking people to pieces because he’s a small-minded, overly-emotional loser who doesn’t know how to self-regulate. This was calculated and quick.
The more I go over it, the clearer it becomes, this was a hit. Meaning, Hunter Cole is an assassin. Or a hitman.
The idea of him being a hitman . . . well shit. It’s kinda hot. Unless I’m a target, then that’s going to be an issue for me. I’m a pretty fast runner, but I’m not sure evading a psycho killer was on my Bingo card for this year. It seems like a lot of energy, and honestly, with Black Velvet doing so well, I really don’t have the time or energy to put the effort into anything else.
Except Maddox Blake. I’ve got all the time and energy for that, especially if he’s intent on satisfying me so thoroughly each and every time he puts it down.
Goddamn. Just the thought of what Maddox does to me is almost enough to make me forget about what I saw today, but unfortunately, no amount of exceptional dick could make a woman forget about that for long.
I wonder what Smooch would think of Hunter? I’ve always stood by the idea that dogs are a great judge of character. They just seem to know this shit. I wonder if Maddox would be down with me borrowing his dog for a few hours, because if any dog is going to know if Hunter is a psychopath that needs to be avoided, it’ll be Smooch.
Damn. I love that dog. I’ve always wanted one, but living in a small apartment, a billion floors up, while having literally no time on my hands, I’m not sure I’d be able to offer a dog a very happy life. They need grass to run and all the love in the world. It’ll happen for me one day.
I’ve always pictured myself with a huge dog. Bigger than Smooch. Maybe a Great Dane. Midnight black. He’d be the greatest love of my life and my fiercest protector. But that’s as far as I’ve gotten on my future dog planning. I always get stuck when I start thinking about potential names. Nothing seems to be good enough. I’ve thrown around names like Diesel and Butch, but so far, nothing has landed. Maybe it’s one of those things where you have to see the dog before you can name him.
Fuck. How has my night snowballed into this? Strolling through the streets of Onyx Heights wondering the difference between assassins and hitmen, and mentally arguing with myself over a name for a dog I don’t even have?
What is wrong with me?
Maybe I’m going crazy. It was bound to happen sooner or later.
Turning the last corner and coming around to my apartment complex, I come to a dead stop seeing that same matte black Challenger sitting right outside my building.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
My heart lurches, and I stand motionless on the sidewalk, not knowing what to do. It’s not as though I’m being very discreet. I’m standing twenty feet away from the asshole’s car, frozen like a goddamn statue, directly under a street light. My blond hair is practically lit up like a halo. If I turn and run, that’s only going to draw more attention to me.
What are the chances he hasn’t seen me yet?
My blood turns to ice, and I watch in horror as he pushes out of his car, and damn it, he’s just as handsome as he was the first time I saw him. Only now I know better than to throw myself at him.
Just as I think he’s about to look my way, he shuts his door and strides into my building like he’s done it a hundred times before.
What the fuck is happening right now?