Jealous Detective (Jealous Psycho #8) Read Online Lena Little

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors: Series: Jealous Psycho Series by Lena Little
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Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 48948 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 245(@200wpm)___ 196(@250wpm)___ 163(@300wpm)
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I had nothing to live for other than awards, accolades, and being the face of good policing in my city, despite my picture never being made public even when I did win Officer of the Year.
I thought it was the end all be all, the thing that drove me and completed me, made me whole as a person.
How sorely misguided, ignorant, and mistaken I was.
Because it was her all along. I just didn’t know she was out there until somehow our worlds collided like two speeding meteorites.
I don’t believe in fate or any of that Hallmark b.s. At least I didn’t until today.
Now it all makes sense. All of it.
Because of her.
My woman.
The one who will never show her body to another man, except me in our home. She’ll never have to offer herself in order to pay the rent or feed herself.
She was made for me and me for her.
I never second-guess my instincts. So why start now?
Once in a lifetime, in so many ways. That’s the best way to describe her.
And mine. Because that’s what she will be, mine.

FULL BOOK START HERE:

1

Dawn

“I”m not going to say it again. Last. Stop.”

Flinching at the elevated tone of his last two words I snap back to the reality of my situation.

My eyes refocus from the grim rundown buildings around me and I catch my reflection in the bus’s window.

My face is ashen, a vein visible on my forehead for the first time in my eighteen years.

My stomach feels rock-hard and my sides aren’t much better, thanks to my elbows pressing so hard into my body, assuming a small, protective posture.

Every instinct I have says to stay rooted to my seat or to pay the driver for a return ride from whence I came.

Don’t leave the bus, girl. Don’t do it.

My heartbeat races in my chest as I feel the sensation of the hair lifting on my arms and the back of my neck.

My body is shaking uncontrollably, a bead of sweat trickling down my spine as I smell a funny odor that I must be omitting, despite dousing myself in perfume before I walked out of my two hundred and eighty-foot studio apartment this morning.

“You can do this,” I repeat to myself like a mantra. “It’s just once, and then you can get a real job. Just once. Just to get through this rough patch.”

I wipe my clammy hands on the part of my trench coat that hangs over my thighs and start to stand, my legs and knees suddenly feeling weak as dizziness threatens to demand I stay put.

But I can’t. With the rent due five days ago and my landlord threatening to change the locks and evict me if I don’t come up with the cash tonight, I don’t have any other option.

This is it. The bottom of the barrel.

I never thought I’d find myself selling my body for cash, but here I am. I’ve questioned my judgment since this idea first popped into my head. But it’s not a matter of logic anymore. It’s one of survival.

Taking a deep inhale and holding it, I move to take a step but my knees lock. Luckily my hand grabs the top of the seat and I regain what little composure I have left before sliding my feet forward toward the front of the bus, my entire body shaking uncontrollably.

My eyes stay glued ahead, but everything is blurry.

I start blinking uncontrollably as my lip and chin tremble as I pass the driver.

“Have a nice fucking day,” he grumbles.

I’m unable to speak and when the bus doors slam shut behind me after my high-heeled sky-high pleather boots make contact with the cold concrete below I realize this is going to happen.

His air brake releases and I jump as he drives away. No one to save me now, but was there ever? Isn’t that why I’m here in the first place?

No turning back now. I take a step forward, clutching the pepper spray canister in my trench coat pocket as I walk toward the line of women leaning against the wall not fifty yards up ahead.

Everything seems to speed up, moving so quickly I can’t even process what’s happening.

The desperation of my situation kicks in and the purpose of what I’m about to do overrides the fear. I knew this was going to be tough, but this is next level. Despite a life of foster homes, missed meals, and being a whipping girl for other kids my age and older, nothing prepared me for this.

I’ve overcome fear before. Doesn’t matter what’s put in front of me, what obstacles I face. I always overcome. And I will overcome this.

“You sure you in the right place?” someone says, rushing at me from the side out of nowhere.

I say nothing, just keep my head down and keep walking.


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