Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 122242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
"Faith, this is Agent Roman Gregory," I murmur, stepping closer to her. "Roman, this is Faith Donovan."
"Ms. Donovan," he says with a polite nod. As if sensing her unease, he hangs back, sticking close to the door instead of stepping deeper into the room. "It's nice to meet you, little one."
"You too," she whispers, her gaze bouncing back to me as if seeking reassurance that Roman won't hurt her. She might not like me much, but she's come to trust me to some extent. Her trust doesn't extend far, but I think she knows her safety matters to me.
I take a couple more steps in her direction, carefully placing myself between the two of them to help ease her mind. Roman is built like a mountain and is about as dangerous as they come, but he'd lay down his life before letting anyone hurt her. He's a damn good friend and an even better cop. He's spent years working the ATF's multi-agency gang taskforce and knows just about everything there is to know about gangs and cartels. His team will be watching over her while she's in protective custody since LAPD doesn't have the resources to spare.
At this point, no one really does, but Roman knows how much I want to take Tarasova down, and he's more than willing to help me do it. Especially since Tarasova blatantly refused to stand down when he asked them not to retaliate for the shooting.
The cartels and gangs in this city have been on the verge of all-out war for months, thanks to Jose Guerrero and el Demonio. He targeted anyone he thought was a threat, trying to claim Los Angeles for himself and his own little drug enterprise. Roman killed him after he shot Mila, but that didn't solve the problem. He had a DEA agent working for him. When that news came out, all hell broke loose. The last thing we need is for Tarasova to add fuel to the fire, but he's determined to do it.
"If it's okay with you, Agent Gregory is going to help me get you moved to your safe house today," I explain to Faith, leaving the choice up to her.
She glances from me to him and then back again before nodding slowly. "Okay," she agrees simply enough, though I know that one word cost her more than she'll ever admit.
Pride waves through me. Despite everything she's been through, she's brave as hell. Cristo, it's impossible not to want her, not to ache for her.
"Where are we going?"
I smile at her, holding out a hand to help her up from the bed. "Come with me, and I'll show you."
She eyes me doubtfully and then places a hand into mine. The large bandages on her hands are gone. In their place are small pieces of gauze, held in place with strips of surgical tape. The largest of the cuts are covered, but the smaller scrapes have been left exposed to promote healing.
My skin hums with energy where we touch. I think she feels it too. As soon as she's on her feet, she jerks away, quickly putting distance between the two of us. I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to close the short distance between us.
"Is there anything here you want to take with you?" I ask, immediately wishing I hadn't. Her room is small, barely large enough for the hospital bed and the pullout shoved into the corner. Aside from the hospital phone on the table, a Bible, and a small pile of toiletries, the only other items in the room are a pitcher of water and a half eaten candy bar. She has nothing. Even the clothes she wore to the hospital are gone, probably packed away in evidence bags in a storage locker. She's been wearing borrowed scrubs for the last few days.
Fuck. I'm an asshole. I should have bought her something to wear long before now.
"No," she whispers and then bites her lip, eyeing the candy bar.
I grab it for her, tucking it into my shirt pocket without a word.
Roman ducks out into the hall, letting his guys know we're coming out. When he pops back in, he draws his gun, which makes Faith shrink, a little whimper leaving her lips. Her body presses into mine like she's seeking comfort or safety.
I hiss when her ass brushes against my groin and my dick throbs, raging back to life. Quickly putting a couple of inches between us before she notices the hard bastard, I place a hand on her arm.
"It's okay," I soothe, keeping my voice soft. "He's not going to hurt you."
"I…" She glances over her shoulder at me, her gaze running over my face. Whatever she sees there seems to reassure her. She nods and straightens, her shoulders going back.
Roman meets my gaze over her head, his blue eyes serious. He doesn't say a word, but he doesn't have to. I've known him for almost fifteen years and can read him like a book. With a simple look, he lets me know he thinks I'm right about her. She's too damn scared to have been with Tarasova by choice. And they're trying far too hard to get to her for her to be a simple cartel slave.