Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 110089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
I glance around. “Where are we?”
“Just follow me and move fast.” He ducks low, maneuvers under branches, and takes a trail at a brutal pace.
Leo runs close at my side, muscles bunched, his coat slick with rain. I pat his head as we push forward, needing the touch of something steady. His ears are up, his tail flicking like he knows this is life or death. He barks twice toward the wreck behind us, sharp and warning, then focuses ahead again. The dog is fine. More than fine. This is an adventure for him. His belly is full, his eyes bright, and he looks like he’s ready to fight.
I clutch the Glock tighter. I could shoot Justice. But I don’t. He saved me twice. I have no clue where we are and need him right now. Probably. More noise comes from behind us.
We walk for what feels like hours. The rain pounds us, cold and steady, and my legs ache. I’m soaked through, exhausted, and my breath comes in ragged bursts. Justice doesn’t slow, just drives forward with that relentless stride until we take another turn and—there’s a cabin.
I stop. This is the best safe house I’ve ever seen. The cabin is built into the rock itself, invisible from above or from any angle. From the path, it looks like shadow and stone until we’re right on top of it.
“Come on.” Justice stomps up the short steps and shoulders open the door.
Leo bolts past him, nails clicking on the wood as he bounds inside, tail wagging like he owns the place.
I drag myself up after them at a slower pace. My clothes are heavy, my hair plastered from rain and debris, and my body screams for rest. I’m wet, I’m freezing, and I’m stranded in the middle of nowhere. “Where are we?”
Justice shuts the door behind me and flicks on the lights. He’s dripping rainwater onto the floor, dark hair plastered to his head. His jaw is cut from stone, his bone structure sharp, his mouth hard. Muscles stretch tight under his soaked shirt, every line carved and unyielding. His dark brown eyes are cold, pissed, and alive with power. He’s currently serving as the leader of the Irish mob while his brother is out of town, standing in the shadows of a cabin, and somehow he looks like sex and danger wrapped in one. “Safe.”
The place is small but solid and has one bed, a kitchenette, and a bathroom I can see off to the side. A sofa and two chairs are arranged in a square that looks like they’ve never been sat in. There’s no warmth or clutter. This place is temporary and utilitarian, obviously here as a true safe house. “This doesn’t make any sense.” I scan the bare walls.
Justice moves past me into the kitchen, crouches, and reaches under the counter. He pulls a hidden lever. A trap door near the bed slides open, revealing stairs leading into shadow. The steady hum of electronics rises up to meet us.
That sound lifts something in my chest. “Now that’s better.”
Justice doesn’t move right away. His gaze locks on the Glock in my hand. “Give me the gun.”
“No.” I tighten my grip, daring him. “I’m not defenseless anymore. You have two guns and I’m keeping this one.”
His jaw ticks. “Hand it over.” He steps in close, all hard muscle and authority, his hand closing over mine. He pries my fingers back, ignoring my struggle, and yanks the weapon free.
“Don’t,” I snap, fury flaring hot inside me.
“I don’t take risks I don’t have to,” he says, sliding the Glock into the back of his waistband. “And you, Ella, are a risk.”
Leo growls low from where he’s settled near the sofa, ears forward, tail twitching. Justice doesn’t even glance at him. He just turns for the trap door, commanding without effort. “Let’s find out what’s going on.”
I glance toward the kitchen to see if there’s a knife block. Anything I can use for a weapon. Nothing. I can run, but the way I’m feeling, I won’t get far.
But downstairs? There are computers. Humming. Yeah. Those are weapons, too. He shouldn’t let me near them.
“Come on,” he says.
Gladly.
SIXTEEN
Ella
In the cabin’s underground computer room, I stare at a screen showing a news crew at the smoldering skyscraper housing Malice Media. This place is high tech and delightful. Leo has long since gone upstairs to sleep—no doubt on the bed. Justice types next to me and then finally sits back. “They hit the penthouse and not the social media hub on the main floors.”
Yeah, I noticed. I turn to face him in the swivel chair, noting he doesn’t look tired. Not like I feel. He appears pissed off and ready for revenge. “You think they want you or me dead?” People know he took me out of that hospital, and it’s easy to find his apartment.