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)
“Uh, Scar...”
“What?” she snaps. “Surely you’re not scared of my panty drawer.”
“Definitely not.” I reach back and scratch the back of my neck. “But it’s, um, empty.”
Her hands fly to her mouth, as she sucks in a sharp breath. “What do you mean empty?”
“I mean empty.” I pull the drawer off the tracks and hold it upside down.
“You’re telling me that psycho stole my underwear?”
“It would appear so.”
I’m expecting her to shout, yell, something—anything other than cry. But big, fat tears roll down her cheeks as she collapses to the floor.
I rush to catch her, but it’s no use. She curls in on herself, drawing her knees to her chest and burying her face there.
“Hey, it’s okay.” I kneel down next to her, laying my palm against her shoulder while she sobs.
“Is it, though?” she rasps. “Because it really doesn’t feel like it.”
“I’m not gonna sit here and pretend to know how you feel right now. I don’t want to placate or patronize you. So, feel however you need to. But hear me when I say it will be okay.” The urge to pull her onto my lap strikes, and instead of fighting it, I drop down the rest of the way to the floor and give in.
Even more surprising, she lets me. Hell, she clings to me as I cradle her to my chest, rocking her softly while she wets my shirt with her tears.
“How do you know?”
“How do I know what?”
“That it will be okay?” The hopelessness in her voice fucking guts me.
“Because I’m going to make damn sure it is.”
“You can’t promise that,” she scoffs, pushing away from my chest so she can look me in the eyes.
“Maybe not, but I’m going to anyway.” And as I stare into her teary eyes, I know I fucking mean it. I’m willing to employ any and every tool Silas has available to find this fucker. One way or another, justice will be served.
Even if I have to mete it out with my own two hands.
“What else do you need?” I ask, trying my best to hurry this along.
“Aside from underwear?” she snarks. “My bathroom stuff.”
“Princess, I’ll buy you all the underwear your heart desires if we can get out of here.”
“Fine.” She heaves out a longsuffering sigh and hauls herself into a standing position. “Give me five minutes.”
I make myself useful while she finishes packing and clean up the food mess in the kitchen. Safe to say after scrubbing this shit out of her grout, it’s going to be a while before I want cheese dip again.
“You ready?” I ask when she rejoins me in the living area.
“Okay, let's go.”
“I can't leave Fefe.” She glances toward the big pink cage.
“You've got to be kidding me.”
“I'm absolutely not kidding you. If I’m coming with you, so is Fefe.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Goddamn it.”
“The choice is yours, Ellis. I'm just as happy to stay here.” She tries to sound strong, but I don’t miss the slight tremor in her voice. “Can you at least manage to pack her stuff while I figure out how to take this damn cage apart?”
“Thank you,” she whispers, and damn if I don’t hate how broken she sounds, because at the end of the day, the Scarlet I know is a fighter.
She grabs the ferret’s carrier from the hall closet and arranges a blanket inside along with a toy or two before bundling the fur covered noodle into her arms.
“It's okay, girl,” she murmurs as Fefe makes a weird little whimpering noise. “I know, Feefs. I’m sure last night was so scary. But it’s okay now. We’re gonna go on a little adventure.” She rubs her nose against the ferret’s head. “Somewhere safe.”
My heart thumps hard against my ribs when she calls my house safe. I can’t explain it, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes to protect her.
She cuddles her for another minute before transferring her into her bright pink carrier, sighing as she secures the door. “Okay.”
“You ready?” I ask, glancing between her and the cage.
“Are you?” she volleys back, raising her right brow.
“Nope.” I stand and head for the door. “Pretty sure I have a screwdriver in my truck.”
Scarlet gives me one of her patented eye rolls. “Or you could use mine.”
“You have a screwdriver?” I sound like an asshole, but in my defense... well, I guess I don’t really have one. I’m being an asshole—guilty as charged.
“I have two actually. A Phillips and a flathead. Wild, right?” She shuffles into the kitchen and returns with a small toolbox and two Ziplock bags. “Here you go. And you can put the hardware in these.”
I can’t help but grin as I flip open her bejeweled toolbox, only to find it perfectly organized with hot pink tools. “This is the most you thing I’ve ever fucking seen.”