Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 65552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Roman Ashford had everything going for him and everyone chasing after him, orbiting him like vultures eyeing a sun-dried meal. Beyond the fact that he had radiated confidence and charisma, he was also a gorgeous specimen of human. Tall and muscular and angular, with perfectly straight teeth and big lips that begged to be kissed, he was the definition of an attention stealer, able to control an entire room with a smile alone, going from perpetually baby-faced to smoldering sex symbol in a matter of seconds. Add to that the fact that the guy was a genius, especially when it came to chemistry and physics, that it seemed nearly impossible for anyone to match Roman’s level.
“It didn’t feel great, that’s for sure. Especially not under the circumstances. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t even be working a dead-end tech job at the museum. I could have afforded us both a nice bayside condo by now if—whatever, it doesn’t matter.” Wyatt rubbed a hand over his face and looked out the narrow window, seeing his neighbor eating noodles on the couch and watching Maury, nothing on but the red-and-white plaid boxers he’d been wearing for the last three days.
“You haven’t dated anyone since him.”
“I’m very much aware of that fact, Julie. I haven’t had time. When I’m not at the museum, I’m working on my own projects, trying to make something that’ll get us out of this cockroach-infested dump. It’s got nothing to do with Roman.”
Or the fact that Wyatt had a Roman-sized hole left in his heart after that stormy night on the boat that had changed everything.
Yeah, his barren dating life definitely didn’t have to do with that.
The doorbell dragged him out of his thoughts. Julie looked to him, thin brows inching together. “Did you order food?”
Wyatt shook his head. “I was going to grab a slice of pizza in a second.”
“Weird, I wasn’t expecting anyone.” Julie got up and went toward the door, but Wyatt rolled off his bed and cut her off, telling her to wait in the room. He couldn’t quite explain why, but the tingling sensation at the base of his neck made him feel extremely uneasy. Too much crazy shit happened in the past twenty-four hours for Wyatt to let his guard down.
He walked barefoot across the cool tiles, seeing the outline of a person’s shadow from the drawn curtains. He looked through the peephole, a hand on the doorknob. The face that stared back at him wasn’t one he recognized. He wasn’t a police officer, either, judging by the all-black outfit the man had on, a necklace hanging down his chest with what appeared to be a shark tooth.
No, that’s not a shark’s tooth. That’s a claw. A lion’s claw.
Dread flushed through him, freezing his muscles and locking him in place. The men at the museum wore the same kind of necklaces. Wyatt would never forget seeing them on their dead bodies as he was escorted out of the crime scene by police, one of the officers mentioning the bloody claws.
Julie. I need to keep her safe.
That thought hit him like lightning, burning off the ice that had momentarily encased his entire body. He turned and ran across the living room, running to the hall, making it to his bedroom door just as the men outside grew impatient, one of them ramming the thin plank of wood with the force of an NFL quarterback, blowing off the hinges and sending the lock flying, landing right at Wyatt’s feet.
“Stay inside, and don’t open this door for anything,” he said to a cowering Julie before throwing his bedroom door shut and shielding it with his body.
The cinder block of a man casually waved a gun in Wyatt’s direction. “Wyatt Hernandez, put some shoes on, and let’s fucking go. You’re Pride property now.”
Chapter 4
Roman Ashford
Steam filled the bathroom, covering the window that normally had a clear view of Miami Beach. Roman padded across the white-and-black marble, dripping water as he toweled off his hair. He left the wet towel hanging off the counter and went for the neatly organized row of face creams and lotions, squeezing a dollop of lightly scented cream onto his palm and rubbing it into his face, closing his eyes and letting the tingly mint settle into his skin.
It was a slice of calm, a peaceful ritual, much needed after the disastrous outing at the science museum.
Roman hated when things didn’t go his way. He was used to solving problems before they even came up, able to see where something could and would go wrong while also coming up with a hundred different ways to get around the problem. He’d saved a job in Morocco when he realized they were being double-crossed and another job in Italy that would have ended in his and his crew’s fiery funeral if he hadn’t figured out their hideout had been infiltrated and rigged to blow. It’s part of what made Roman so cut out for the leadership role; not only was he able to lead into danger, but he was also able to lead away from it.