Page 39 of Heartless Sinner

They’re going to kill him.

They’re going to kill my father, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

I scream for them to stop, but my pleas are lost and tangled with Dad’s cries of anguish.

Suddenly, the door explodes inward with a crash that shakes the walls.

More men storm through and gunshots crack through the air like thunder, deafening in the small space.

At first, I don’t know what’s going on. I thought they were more of Anton’s men, but when they start shooting the men kicking Dad, I realize something else is going on.

Blood sprays across our faded wallpaper, across the family photos, across me.

Then, through the chaos, a familiar figure strides in, and my heart stops dead in my chest.

Mr. Dreamy walks right in, his shiny black hair glistening against the high-noon sun. The gleam is a contrast to his full black clothing.

I blink several times wondering if I’m dreaming or if I’m imagining him. But I realize I’m not when his gaze flicks to me and I take in the darkness in his eyes. Those hazel eyes that looked at me with so much desire now gaze back at me, emotionless and flat.

What is he doing here?

What the hell is going on?

He moves like a predator through the war zone happening around us like death given form. Then he pulls a gun and walks right up to me. Before I can take my next breath, he puts a bullet through the skull of the man on my left, then, without looking, he shoots the man beside my father.

The hands that belong to the man holding me down tighten painfully. "Who the fuck are?—"

Mr. Dreamy is beside us in two strides. He grabs the man and hoists him into the air, then he rams a knife he pulls from his pocket into his chest.

The grotesque sight has me huddling up to the wall, grabbing my knees to my chest as if I can force my body to disappear if I squeeze hard enough.

"Sorry, man," Mr. Dreamy taunts, his voice like velvet over steel. "I'm taking over from here."

Blood gurgles from the dying man's throat. "Who... who are you?"

Mr. Dreamy’s eyes lock with mine and now I see hunger mixed with rage, along with something else that makes my stomach flip.

His lips curve into a smile that promises violence. "I’m Micah Delarosa."

The name hits me like a physical blow, stealing the air from my body.

Oh. My. God.

What the…

What kind of fresh hell have I landed myself in?

He,my one-night stand, is Micah Delarosa.

The man I stole from. And the look he’s giving me tells me he knows everything.

Shivers erupt over my body like the plague.

He glances over his shoulder at his men, then looks back at me. "Get them in the truck. Both of them."

Them—fucking hell, he’s talking about Dad and me.

He—Micah—crouches next to me and I flinch when he presses a finger to my cheek and traces my jawline, leaving fire in its wake. "We have so much to discuss, little thief."

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