Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 54283 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54283 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
"Hands in the air, motherfucker," the man says, pointing the gun at Nicolas.
He slowly does as instructed, untangling himself from Naz and lifting his hands skyward. Defeat rolls through his dark eyes.
The man flicks his gaze in my direction, his steely blue-gray eyes settling on me. And realization slams into me. I do know him. Michael Kincaid. Jesus. We go to school together. At least, we did. His girlfriend's family was just murdered in a drive-by. It's all anyone talked about for two days in class. He hasn't been back since it happened.
What is he doing here? How is he tangled up in this? It doesn't make any sense. He has nothing to do with any of this.
"Eyes off my fiancée," Naz growls at him.
"I was going to tell her she can cover up. I'm betting she's not exactly thrilled to be naked in a room of assholes. I'm guessing you're Nazario?" Michael asks him.
Naz narrows his eyes on him, nodding warily. "And who are you?"
"Kincaid," he mutters.
I grab the blanket off the bed, dragging it down over me, nearly sobbing in relief when I'm finally covered, my body no longer on display for everyone in the room.
"Do I know you?" Naz asks.
"Nope."
"Why are you in my house?"
"I've been asking myself the same fucking question since I walked through the door." Michael nods at Nicolas, who still has his hands in the air. "You want to do something about him before his buddy wakes up?"
Naz cocks a brow, frustrated amusement in his gaze. But I see the murderous fury it hides. The broken terror. He'll never show that to this man, this stranger, but he's shrouded in darkness, ready to commit murder, mayhem, and monstrous acts.
"Would love to," he says, twisting to show Michael his hands. "But as you can see, I'm not currently in a position to help you out."
"Brynna," Michael calls softly. "Can you untie Nazario, please?"
I sniffle and then nod, pulling the blanket tightly around me and tucking it in to keep it in place before I push myself to my feet. I stumble toward Naz, every damn atom, every cell, every piece of me straining toward him, desperate for him.
I throw myself to my knees in front of him, biting my cheek to keep from sobbing out loud. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against mine. A broken, shuddering exhale whispers from his lips, his entire body relaxing.
"Naz," I whimper.
"Brynna." He whispers my name like a prayer, sending tears rolling down my cheeks. "Untie me, mi alma. Everything will be okay."
It's the first time he's promised me that.
Nicolas shifts beside Naz, his hands twitching.
"I will shoot you," Michael warns him. "You won't be the first person I've killed recently. Won't even be the second. Or the third."
"Hijueputa," he mutters, glaring at Michael. But he doesn't move again.
I scurry around to Naz's back to untie him. The bonds are so tight, they dig into his wrists.
"Who are you?" he asks Michael while I work, plucking at the knots with trembling fingers.
"Already told you my name is Kincaid."
Naz nods and then falls silent, waiting patiently for me to get him untied.
"I'm guessing you don't want me to call the cops?" Michael ask him as the damn ropes fall from his wrists.
Naz smirks, a vicious, deadly smile, rising gracefully to his feet. If it bothers him that he's naked, he doesn't show it. Then again, I doubt it bothers him. He's arrogant, cocky. Perfect.
I watch in silence as he yanks Nicolas to his feet with a hand around his throat. He doesn't say a word to him. I don't think he has anything left to say to him. All that's left now is pain and retribution. He drives his other fist into his face twice in rapid succession, brutal, vicious, without mercy, and then drops him to the ground like he's a useless piece of trash.
"Gun, please," he says, hand extended toward Michael.
"Nah, I think I'm good holding onto it," Michael says, shaking his head. There's a weariness in his eyes that I recognize a little too well. I think he's seen enough bloodshed, enough pain.
Naz shrugs like it doesn't matter to him if Michael keeps the gun or not, and grabs the rope I just freed him from. Nicolas doesn't try to fight as Naz ties him up, yanking the ropes so tight they cut off his circulation. He doesn't make a sound, doesn't even move. He just stares blankly at the floor, like he knows his life is over. He rolled the dice and lost, and he isn't the type to beg. Snakes never do.
"You know Rojas will win this war, príncipe," he says only when Naz has him tied up. "He'll send others to finish the job."
"Then let them come," Naz says, his voice lethally soft. "I'll kill every motherfucker he sends my way. Starting with you."