Recovery Road – Torpedo Ink Read Online Christine Feehan

Categories Genre: Dark, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 144908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
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“We had a deal, you bastard, and you’re already breaking your word.” She tried to pour accusation into her voice, but it was a whisper of sound. What was she saying? What was coming out of her mouth? One minute she was looking for a way out, and the next she was furious at him because he was carelessly throwing her away. Breaking their deal. He’d told the others she had a choice. She had meant what she said when she took those stupid vows. When she’d married a total stranger.

She was so tired. She could see her parents’ bodies slumped over. What would they think of her? Trading her freedom, her chance to avenge them, for her life? For that first shocking heat that raged through her body and caught her so unawares?

The truck suddenly spun sideways, throwing her against Master hard. The movement made her face hurt. Her ribs hurt. Mostly, her heart and soul hurt. She’d really screwed up. How was she going to get out of this one? She had no weapon. She wasn’t certain she was even thinking right. Her mind was nothing but chaos.

“Don’t worry, princess, I never believed for one minute you were marrying me for real or that you meant a single thing you said. I had no intention of holding you to it. I wanted to see how far you’d take it. Did you really think I’d believe someone like you would tie yourself to someone like me?”

The sheer contempt in his voice put steel in her spine. Her chin went up and flames all but crackled in her eyes. She swore she was looking at him through the leaping blaze. “I have every intention of keeping my word—unlike you, asshole. I’m not a liar and a cheat like you.”

“Then why all the tears?” This time there was no denying the curl of his lip and the darkening of those blue eyes to midnight black.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because my parents were murdered right in front of me. That might do it. Some asshole beat the shit out of me. That could do it. I was drugged and now it’s leaving my system. Good bet that might contribute. I’m married to the most insensitive, vain, thinks-the-world-revolves-around-him bastard on the planet—that might do it. I’m in a dress covered in blood. Do you need me to go on, or is that enough for you? I think it best no one gives me a gun because I’d be a widow before the wedding night.”

His expression was completely unexpected again. He looked at her as if he wanted to throw her on the nearest bed and devour her. She’d never seen such stark, raw lust blazing in a man’s eyes before. Certainly not when he looked at her.

The truck spun around in a circle and left the paved road to take a dirt one. The men barely moved in their seats, but Ambrielle was thrown forward and then locked in so tight against the seat she couldn’t breathe. Before she could unsnap the belt, Master was already leaning across her.

The movement put his head right up against her breasts and the corset with the sheer vee down the front. She could feel his hot breath as he unsnapped the tab from the metal lock. She could have sworn his mouth dragged against her left nipple, hot and wet, sending fire straight to her clit. Her entire core clenched. Then he straightened, his hair sliding over her nipples intimately, his face turned away from her as he brought up the large bulletproof vest that had been lying on the floorboards. Had she imagined the entire thing? Color crept up her neck into her face.

The terrain was bumpy and threw her all over the seat, so that it was only Master steadying her, suddenly shoving her head down. He wrapped the vest around her, gun in his fist, window open, his large body blocking hers as he squeezed the trigger repeatedly. On the other side of her, Ice was doing the same. Up front, Preacher was firing.

Ambrielle couldn’t see anything, because every time she struggled to get free of the vest and get her head up, Master’s large, very heavy arm would come down on top of her, pushing her head to the seat. The truck bucked and spun, a wild ride, making her stomach lurch. The gunfire was loud. Bullets hit the doors, and twice she heard them thunk into the vest. Master grunted once and his body jerked.

“Are you hit?” Anxiety gripped her. She hadn’t made her choice right away. The man, Czar, had repeatedly said they had to hurry, but Master had waited patiently, not trying to push her one way or the other for a fast decision. She didn’t want to be responsible for any of these men getting hurt—especially if they had really come to rescue her.


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