Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 46132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Fire floods into me at the thought. I may never have met Sparky – I may have just met this man – but I saw the way Damian’s face changed when he realized what was happening.
Just for a second, the gruff shield fell and pain lanced into his features.
“What the fuck?” Damian snaps into the cellphone.
A pause, and then Damian explodes.
“You’re sorry? You sold me out, Jenkins. You sold me out and now you’ve put the life of an innocent animal in danger. Wait—Jenkins, Jenkins. Motherfuck.”
“What?” I gasp.
He looks coldly at me, clenching his teeth.
“They killed my contact,” he murmurs.
“Who did?”
“The Bratva,” he says. “Andrei, Dobry’s older brother. Jenkins betrayed me and then they killed him, but not before tracing my damn call to this motel. They’re going to take Sparky because they know it’ll force me to come to them.”
“Well, then,” I say fiercely. “We better not let that happen.”
For the briefest moment, he smirks, but then he becomes deadly serious.
“Stay here,” he says. “I’ll handle this.”
“Wait,” I say quickly, placing my hand on his arm again, which feels far more natural than it has any right to.
“I want to help. Please, let me. You saved me. Now let me help save your dog.”
Damian considers me for a moment, and then Sparky’s yipping gets even louder.
“Okay,” Damian growls. “But you have to run and get far away from here if anything happens to me. You have to get to safety. I can’t let anything happen to you.”
Why, Damian? Do you feel for me like I feel for you?
I beat that thought down.
Even if this wasn’t the craziest scenario ever – even if we were just two regular people in a club – he’d never go for me, this seven foot tall silver haired giant, this alpha among alphas. He could have any woman he wanted, so why the heck would he pick the curvy girl with the messed up past and the hopeless future?
This must be about something else. Maybe it’s as simple as him not wanting a civilian to die on his watch, with all the mess and the questions that’d bring.
Or maybe it’s more—
No, I won’t let myself hope.
“Dakota,” he snaps. “Do we have a deal?”
“Yes, I’ll be safe,” I whisper. “I promise.”
I sway past the motel room, veering from side to side as though drunkenly trying to keep my balance.
The voices of the men come to me, vicious and Russian, with Sparky still leaping around the room and yapping in his agile escape attempts.
I turn to the man at the door, making sure that I’m standing next to the van like Damian instructed me.
Okay, Miss Harkness, it’s time to make you proud.
Miss Harkness was my drama teacher and I try to remember what scant details I can as I raise my voice and call over to the guard. He’s a short, wide-shoulder man with a misshapen nose and an elaborate tattoo covering one half of his face.
His gaze snaps to me when I call over.
“What?” he grunts, in a heavy accent.
“Do you hear barking?” I say, slurring my voice.
“Yes, it’s our dog,” the man grunts. “Nothing to worry about.”
“Wait, it’s real?” I say, giggling like a madwoman. “The barking is real?”
“Yes,” the man snaps, taking a step forward.
Yes, yes.
Damian has already started prowling along the walkway, flat against the wall, moving insanely quiet for a man of his impressive size.
“I was just asking, asshole,” I hiss, raising my voice now. “No need to be so freaking rude.”
“You little bitch,” the man growls, taking yet more steps forward, creating a Damian-sized gap between him and the wall. “Why don’t you come over here and say that, eh?”
“Why don’t you come over here?” I counter. “You ugly...pig-fucking piece of crap.”
The man’s face hardens and he ducks his head, striding toward the edge of the walkway.
Like a jungle cat emerging from the underbrush, Damian stalks up behind him and wraps his thick arm around his throat, holding him pinned in place.
Damian turns the man and whispers something in his ear. I don’t know exactly what he says, but I know he’s forcing the man to draw out his friends.
The man says something in Russian.
Damian steps toward the door, holding the man close to his chest, as though getting ready to throw him.
And then he does throw him when one of the other men emerges.
I suck in a sharp stunned breath as I watch the man fly like a rag doll across the walkway, slamming into his friend and causing them both to go flying to the floor.
Then I’m forced to stay, fighting the urge to run in there after him and help. I can’t see what’s going on, just hear it—a crash, a yelp, a scream, and then a cry.
My heart begins to thunder as though this man is my husband, my lifelong friend, my something.