Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 103431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Ellis sighs. “You need to go, man. We'll catch up later.”
“Whatever,” Atlas scoffs. “Fuck this.” He turns around and stomps out of the house.
“Thank you,” I croak, my voice barely audible. “You didn’t have to do that. But, um, you... you can go, too.”
TWENTY
ELLIS
I stagger back, her words landing like a physical blow. “You think I'm leaving you here?”
“It's fine. I've already caused enough trouble for y'all.” She glances down at her feet as she twists her fingers together. “I’ll b-be fine. D-don't worry about me.”
“Something tells me that all I'm gonna do is worry about you.” I run a hand through my hair as I rack my brain to figure out how this all went to hell so fast. I thought we were making progress. One step forward, fucking ten back.
“You don’t need to.” She sniffles and then stiffens her upper lip. “I’ll get everything cleaned up, and it’ll be as g-good as new.”
“Pack a bag and let's go, Princess.”
She narrows her eyes, and I swear on all that’s holy, I can see her erecting walls around her heart. “It's fine, Ellis.”
“Gonna go ahead and call bullshit,” I say plainly. She’s clearly not fine. And no sane person would expect her to be. Her home—her safe space—was violated by that piece of shit.
I’m a six-foot-three grown-ass man with rigorous firearms training and I’d be on edge about sleeping here. Hell, I’m ready to leave right-fucking-now.
“Listen, we both know you’re only asking me to stay with you out of some misguided sense of nobility.” She runs her teeth over her lower lip. “Being a protector is ingrained in your DNA, but let’s be real, I’m sure you’d rather do just about anything than babysit me. Atlas is right. I’m nothing but trouble.”
“You really think that?” I ask, hurt leaking into my tone.
She shrugs, refusing to look me in the eye.
“Tell me something, Princess... Do I look like the kind of man who does any-damn-thing he doesn’t want to do?”
I drum my fingertips against my thighs as I wait for her to reply. But stubborn little thing that she is, Scarlet keeps her lips sealed shut and her eyes fixed firmly on her pink-painted toes.
After a few minutes, my patience runs out, and I crowd her.
I glide my index and middle fingers up the smooth column of her neck, all the way to her chin, stroking my thumb along her jaw before tilting her gaze up to mine. “Whatever the fuck you’re thinking—stop it. Right now.”
She jerks her chin out of my hold and steps back from me, but I follow, advancing until her back’s to the wall, and I’m invading every ounce of personal space she has. “You're coming with me, Scarlet Armstrong. You're gonna let me fucking protect you.”
“I don’t need—”
“We both know you’re too damn stubborn to ask for what you need.” I cup her cheek with a tenderness I didn’t know I possessed. “You’re also too smart and strong to let Atlas’s words get to you. He was out of line, and I plan on making sure he knows it.”
“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me, Ellis.”
“You’re goddamn right you don’t. You’re a force to be reckoned with. But I’m still gonna talk to him. Deep down, he knows he was out of line.”
She starts to argue, but I press my index finger to her lips, shushing her. “That’s enough of that. You wanna argue? Bet. Once we’re back at my place, we can argue until we’re both blue in the face. But right now, I need you to buck up and pack a bag. Like it or not, you’re stuck with me, and I’m gonna make sure we get through this. Together.”
She crosses her arms, glaring up at me like a petulant child. If I didn’t think she’d clock me, I’d take her over my knee.
“You know what? Forget it. I'll pack. Point me toward a bag.”
She gestures limply toward her bedroom. “In the closet.”
I pivot on my heel and head straight for her room, a man on a mission. I tiptoe around her closet door, which is barely hanging on the track. It takes a minute, but, eventually, I find a black duffel bag beneath all of the clothes piled on the floor.
“This work?” I ask, holding the bag triumphantly overhead.
“Sure.” She sounds thoroughly exhausted, but I’ll worry about that later, once we’re out of this hellhole. Hell, I’ll even run her a bath if she wants.
The fuck... where did that thought come from? Scarlet is a grown-ass woman and doesn’t need me to run her a bath. Although... given how her last shower went at my place, maybe supervision isn’t the worst idea in the world.
I start throwing things haphazardly into the bag, not even paying attention to what I’m grabbing—that is until I open her top drawer, only to find it empty.