Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 215412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 862(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 862(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
She doesn’t see me, the wheelhouse of a longliner blocking her view. But I see her, her defiant gait a challenge to my patience as she saunters past.
No sign of Wolfson Strakh. She probably slipped away before he realized he’d been ditched.
I push off from the rail, rest the thumb of my broken wrist in my pocket, and keep a careful distance.
The docks buzz with early morning life, fishermen hauling nets, tourists snapping photos, and children darting between legs. Perfect cover.
Dove moves swiftly, unaware of my gaze drilling into her back.
My heart pounds, my blood a silent squall beneath the surface. I don’t know what I’ll do when I get my hands on her. The idea of locking her away and caging her like a feral pet is appealing. Somewhere remote. Somewhere no one can find her.
Movement shifts at the edge of my vision.
Two men trail her, blending expertly, keeping a discreet yet constant distance.
I narrow my eyes.
Not ordinary men. Professionals. Disciplined, alert professionals.
My chest constricts.
Are they here for me? Impossible. No one knows I’m in Alaska.
Realization hits. They’re not stalking Dove. They’re protecting her. Strakh family guards, no doubt.
A dark surge of rage twists through my gut.
Dove is mine. No one has the right to keep her from me.
A few blocks later, she disappears into the mechanic shop. Her coworkers shuffle around inside, visible through grimy windows. The security detail sets up silently around the perimeter, vigilant and lethal.
I clench my jaw, every muscle vibrating with restrained fury. I have to rethink this. She’s not unguarded. Not vulnerable. Not anymore. Plans need changing, angles reconsidered.
Turning sharply, I head toward the tattoo shop, my boots heavy against the damp concrete.
The shop sits quiet, closed on Mondays, a sanctuary and hideaway rolled into one. But it’s not my real haven. My servers, hacker equipment, and surveillance gear lie hidden in an abandoned shed a few blocks away.
Losing that is as dangerous as losing Dove.
Sliding my key into the lock, I swing open the door to the tattoo shop. The darkness inside feels innocuous.
Until I sense a shift in the shadows, a loose breath betraying another presence.
My hand freezes on the door, and my pulse jumps into an alert rhythm.
“Took you long enough.” The voice comes smooth, darkly amused, from a shadowed corner. “I almost started without you.”
Wolfson Strakh sits comfortably, a leg crossed over his knee and eyes glittering like arctic ice in the low light. Disarming and casual all at once.
A chill curls up my spine, anticipation threading through the anger. His presence means trouble, maybe even disaster. But if he thinks he has the upper hand, he’s gravely mistaken.
“Started what without me?” I shut the door, locking us in the shadows.
“Making the playlist for your funeral. Any last requests?”
“‘Don’t Fear the Reaper.’”
“Good choice.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Leave town. You’re not welcome here.”
“Is that a threat, Strakh? Or an invitation to play? Either way, I’m not going anywhere.”
“You misunderstand.” He tilts his head, assessing me. “It’s a warning. Dove doesn’t want you here. None of us do.”
“Dove belongs to me.” I step closer, thrumming with a sinister thrill of anticipation.
“Belongs to you?” He rises from the chair, controlled grace infused with menace. The faint scent of smoke drifts off him as he closes the distance. “She’s not your property, pretty kitty. Touch her again, and I’ll rearrange your internal organs. Alphabetically.”
“Dove and I have a history that spans a lifetime.” Fury ignites my veins. “What do you have? Two days with her? No matter how many thugs your family hires, you can’t erase me.”
“Yeah, your history’s a real fairy tale. Murdered parents, paranoid obsession, pathological stalking, dead bodies… You’re every girl’s dream psycho.”
Heat floods my face and drains to a cold numbness.
Dove confided in him. She shared our pain. Our past. The thought scrapes my chest raw, gouging deeper than a blade. It feels like betrayal, like death, like everything I’ve fought for is slipping away.
“You might think you own this town, but you don’t own me.” I straighten. “You don’t own Dove. And you don’t scare me.”
“If you’re not scared, you’re even more fucked in the head than I thought. Dove hates you. How does it feel knowing she’d rather die than see your face again?”
“She’ll come around. She always does.” My breath turns ragged, hatred flaring white-hot. “But you? You’re just another mistake she’ll regret in a long line of mistakes.”
He spreads his arms open, palms up in a challenge, silently inviting me to try harder.
This guy. He’s not normal.
“Last chance.” His mouth quirks into a bored half-smile. “Leave town. Disappear. Or you won’t leave here alive.”
“You think you’re untouchable?” The weight of the gun at my waist makes my fingers twitch, itching to draw. “I’ll enjoy proving you wrong.”
In a flash, my good hand jerks toward my weapon, but he moves faster, steel glinting from the sleeve of his jacket.