Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 129980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
He wouldn’t have recognized her swollen, bruised face. Both eyes were nearly closed, and her lips were cut. Derrick had used his knife to cut into her thighs, slashing lacerations into the muscles.
“I’m here, Solnyshkuh. You’re safe.” She’ll need your skills, Steele. He beat the shit out of her, but he also cut her with a knife several times. Thighs. Maestro cut through the zip ties to free her wrists. “Stay still, baby. I’ve got you now.”
The sound of gunshots had her crying out, her fingers forming a fist in his shirt, holding on tightly.
“The boys have this,” he said with total confidence. “They’re mopping up, clearing the way to get you out of here.” While he assured her, he turned his body slightly to make certain he blocked her from the door while he inspected the wounds in her thighs.
Arterial blood?
No, not deep, just quite a few. He cut the muscle in both thighs. I doubt she could get far if by a miracle she got away.
He lifted her, cradling her close, whispering how sorry he was that he was hurting her. It didn’t matter that she was covered in blood, urine and sweat. He’d grown up with open wounds and the disturbing physical ramifications of torture on the human body. It sucked that he was well versed in those things, but right now, when his woman needed comfort and care, he knew the right things to say and do.
Keys and Player met him at the door. Keys led the way back through the tunnel at a run, Maestro following smoothly and Player bringing up the rear. Steele waited in a van, his medical bag already open. He had treated hundreds of children, teens, men and women for the types of wounds and trauma that Azelie had experienced.
Maestro climbed in beside her, retaining possession of her hand. “Steele’s got you, babe. I’m right here and you’re safe.”
TWENTY
“I wish I could have seen the way the merry widows distracted the outside security guards,” Azelie said. “It must have been hilarious.”
Maestro was finding it hard to retain a sense of humor, even though Code had footage of the three women flirting and acting like tourists when they approached the security guards. Doug played the part of China’s long-suffering husband while she prattled on about dancing and what was the difference between the Adventure Club and the Pleasure Train.
The swelling had gone down quite a bit on Azelie’s face, but she was still heavily bruised, and her lower lip was a mess. She would have scars. She had stitches in both thighs, three places in her right thigh. One laceration had been deep enough that she’d had to have stitches inside and outside.
He was happy to have her in Caspar at his home. The first few days she’d been on the coast with him had been spent in Steele’s home, where Steele could watch her closely for infection. Knife wounds tended to become infected. Sometimes the stab wound wasn’t that deep or in any way life-threatening, but the bacteria on the blade was deadly.
“Code has video with audio,” he told her, trying to contain restless energy by pacing up and down the length of the bedroom.
He hadn’t thought about decorating his home when he’d first bought it, other than with his piano and other musical instruments. He had an extremely large workshop that was well stocked with every kind of tool he could possibly want or need. But his house…He hadn’t really considered it home, and he rarely stayed there.
While Azelie was at Steele’s, he had a very good bed brought in, along with a few other items Lana and Alena helped him choose. Breezy, Steele’s wife, sat with Azelie while he was gone, reassuring her that she was safe and so were her friends. His brothers and sisters in the club hastily put his house together, including stocking the pantry and refrigerator.
Maestro wanted the chance to be alone with her. He liked taking care of her, but now that she was there, looking pale beneath her bruised and swollen face and body, he feared he might have insisted on bringing her home too early.
“You’re frowning.”
He wasn’t. Inside maybe, but he had on his expressionless mask she wasn’t supposed to be able to read. He deliberately scowled. “Zelie, you aren’t supposed to be able to read me. I’m the one that reads you.”
She flashed a small smile and then gasped, putting her hand over her lower lip where the gash had been sewn. “Don’t make me laugh.”
His scowl deepened. “You’re supposed to take the things I say very seriously. There are rules in place for a reason.”
“Well, give me the reason, because I always know when you’re frowning. I don’t like you upset and need to do something to make things better.”
“I’ll look like a fuckin’ pussy if I show too much concern. You have no idea how I’ve already had to eat my words, thanks to you. If the others have any idea how you’ve wrapped me around your little finger, I’ll never live it down. At least pretend you can’t read me.”