Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 145942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 730(@200wpm)___ 584(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 730(@200wpm)___ 584(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
I clench my jaw and raise a brow. “You must think I’m such an idiot. Do you honestly think I’m going to let you play me like that? Get me nice and close just to give you another shot at taking my life? Yeah, fucking right,” I say, placing my hand against his arm around my waist and giving it a hard shove until it finally falls away. “I’ll find my own way home, and when I do, the four of you better be fucking ready, because I’m coming for you and I won’t stop until I have each of you begging for your lives.”
Hurt flashes in Carver’s dark eyes and I have to brace myself to keep from bawling like a fucking toddler having a tantrum. He steps into me and I back up. “I fucking hope that you hold us accountable,” he mutters, matching each of my steps with one of his own, stalking me like a proud lion, “and I fucking hope that you make it hurt. I hate what we’ve had to put you through, but right fucking now, this bullshit between us isn’t working for me.”
Without warning, Carver reaches out and grabs me, his strength knowing no bounds. He throws me over his thick shoulder as I squirm for freedom. I belt my hands against his back, but it’s as though I’m swatting a fly.
He takes off at a run, darting back behind the property before launching himself over Karleigh’s back fence. “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING? PUT ME DOWN, RIGHT FUCKING NOW, DANTE CARVER. YOU’RE GOING TO DROP ME.”
Carver’s only response is to spank my ass which only makes me want to nut punch him again.
He darts through the neighboring properties until he gets to an empty street and aims for a black SUV that sits on the lonely road. He reaches the car and I’m pulled off his shoulder only to be pinned between his ripped body and the side panel of the door.
Carver reaches around me and opens the back door before leaning in and grabbing a roll of fucking duct tape. “No,” I demand, shaking my head. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
“Sorry, babe,” he says, wrestling against my hold until he has both of my wrists securely in his big hand. “Just remember that this is for your own good.” And just like that, the bastard starts binding my hands together.
“I hate you,” I mutter as he twists the duct tape around my wrists, making sure that I won’t be able to break free.
“I know,” he tells me. “But a part of you still loves me, and until you can honestly tell me that you don’t, I’m not going anywhere.”
“I don’t.”
“You’re a terrible liar, Winter.”
I just glare, and not a second later, he starts to bind my ankles as well. When he straightens up, he meets my eyes, and for good measure, he presses a piece of tape over my mouth so that I can’t spend the next few hours ranting and raging at him.
Carver scoops me off the side of the car and all but tosses me across the back seat. The door slams behind him, a door that I’m sure has the child lock on, and all I can do is shoot daggers his way as I watch him walk around to the driver’s door.
He climbs in and looks back at me, double checking that I haven’t managed to escape in the last three seconds.
“Fucking asshole,” I spit, only with the tape, it comes out more like ‘Mufking nastoll.’
“I’m sorry, babe,” he tells me as the engine roars to life. “It’ll all make sense soon enough.” And just like that, Carver takes off like a rocket, leaving Santa DeClara behind and along with it, all my hopes and dreams of having any kind of future.
CHAPTER 5
Carver hits a bump and my head rebounds off the backseat, forcing a low groan to travel up my throat. “Shit,” he laughs from the front. “I didn’t mean to actually hit that one, but the last three … yeah, consider them payback for making me spend the night in the fucking woods. I swear, I fell asleep in a fucking ant’s nest. The little fuckers were crawling over me all night.”
I clench my jaw, not impressed with his bullshit commentary in the least. We’ve been driving for less than two hours and the fucker just won’t shut up. It’s as though he’s getting some kind of sick, twisted enjoyment out of this. Though, why wouldn’t he? Our whole relationship has been a lie. I bet he’s been waiting for this day since the second I showed my face in Ravenwood Heights.
His phone rings on the front passenger seat and he reaches across to grab it, glancing down at the name that flashes up on the screen. “About fucking time,” he grunts, placing the phone down on his lap and hitting speakerphone. “I've been trying to call you for the past two hours. Where the fuck have you been?”