Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“Motherfucker,” Cormac snarls, breathing hard. His knife is left in the dead Russian’s chest, and it’s like time snaps back into place.
I’m suddenly aware of people staring in horror.
“Cormac,” I whisper, trying to make words. But I can barely think.
My husband stands. He’s so big and somehow still beautiful, even with the blood of two dead men covering his shirt. His clothes cling to him, blood showing off the muscles of his chest and abs. He turns to me, his smile fading away as he seems to realize we’re completely exposed.
“With me, right now,” he snarls, grabbing my arm. His fingers leave smears of blood on my bicep as he drags me into the street.
“What happened? Who were they?”
“Dead. They are dead.”
“I mean, but who were they?”
“Russians.” His car is double parked a few feet away. He shoves me in and climbs behind the wheel.
“Why would they want to kill me?”
His expression darkens. Terror rings through me. My husband is covered in blood and looks like he wants to bathe in more of it.
“Because I fucked up.” He puts the car in drive. “No more questions. We have to get you home.” He speeds forward, going fast toward home.
Chapter 18
Bianca
I’m shaking as Cormac hustles me inside.
Once the front door shuts, he bolts it, double-checks his security system, and takes off his clothes. “Blood stains,” he says as if that’s a reasonable explanation. He gets a plastic bag and shoves the filthy shirt and pants inside.
“Are you hurt?”
He shakes his head, now almost naked. Blood still glistens on his tattoo-covered skin. “I’m fine. Only angry I was too late.”
“Too late? You saved my life.”
“It shouldn’t have gotten that close.” His jaw flexes. “Your work—”
“Isn’t changing.” My heart’s racing into my throat. “I have the Willow Foundation to think about. I can’t just—”
“The what?” His eyebrows furrow. “I thought you were doing food delivery.”
“My shelter. It’s called Second Chances.” I don’t know why, but the name sounds right.
He takes a moment to consider before he nods. “I like it.” Then he grabs me by the elbow and lightly steers me to the stairs. “You should undress.”
“Why?” I look down at myself and realize I have blood on my clothes. “Oh, God. I didn’t notice.”
“You get used to it.” He steers me into our room and begins to draw a bath. “Undress and get in.”
I look at him, trying to decide if this is some kind of crazy trap. “I’m not really a bath girl.”
“You don’t realize it, but you’re in shock right now.”
I shake my head. “No, that’s not right.”
“Bianca.” He touches my hips. It’s surprisingly light and tender. “Do you realize you’re crying?”
I blink rapidly and look in the mirror. Tears are streaming down my face. “Would you look at that.”
“Undress, please. This isn’t a ploy.”
“Right now it isn’t, but the second my clothes are on the floor—”
He lets out a frustrated growl. “Just strip, damn it.”
“Since you ask so nicely.” I kick off my shoes and remove my slacks with trembling hands. “Try not to look.”
“I’m not good at the whole self-control thing.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Don’t pretend like you mind.”
“Worked out for me just now.” I laugh hysterically. “You stabbed two guys with guns.”
“It was easy. I took the knife and just—” He mimes jabbing it into someone.
I hesitate when I’m in my bra and panties. He’s looking at me expectantly. There’s a hint of that worship in his gaze, but also something else.
Dark rage. Disappointed anger.
“You’re bloody too, you know.”
“First you, then me.”
“Is that always going to be our order?” I ask, grinning stupidly as I unhook my bra. My nipples are slightly stiff. A little fleck of blood marks my pale skin near my collarbone.
“Always,” he whispers, licking his lips.
I take off my panties and get into the tub. I squirt some shampoo to make some bubbles, just for some added privacy. It doesn’t really help, but at least the warm water feels nice. The water turns very lightly pink as the blood washes from my skin.
“This is actually kind of nice,” I admit against my better judgment. It’s usually not a good idea to give a guy like Cormac any positive reinforcement. Especially when it comes to ordering me to get naked.
“Helps calm the nerves,” he says, kneeling down behind me. His fingers gently brush my hair to the side and he begins to rub my shoulders. “It’s better if we ease the trauma now before it settles too deep.”
“You have a lot of experience with this?”
“I’m usually the one causing the nightmares, not trying to ease them.”
“Wonderful.” I close my eyes and sigh. He’s really good at massaging my shoulders and neck. His fingers are deft, gentle, and tireless. “Sounds like you have a promising future as a therapist ahead of you.”
“More like keeping therapists in business.” His hands move to my shoulders. “How do you feel?”