Read Online The Preacher's Son #3: Unbroken (Erotic Romance) by Jasinda Wilder - Free Book Online
Authors: Jasinda Wilder
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1
My heart stopped, and my mouth went dry. Tre tensed, but held his position.
"She's a woman, Dan," Tre said, "not a possession. Go away."
Tre stumbled backward with Dan following, the barrel of a pistol pressed against Tre's forehead.
"Don't tell me what to do, you little shit," Dan said, shoving the gun to send Tre stumbling backward. "I'll fucking kill you and no one will give a fuck."
Dan's pale blue eyes found me, a greedy, lecherous smile curved his mouth. "I see you got the whore all ready for me." He gestured with the barrel of the gun. "Get over here, bitch."
Tre's eyes were blazing with anger and fear. He glanced at me, and I shook my head. I didn't want him to get hurt because of me. I slid off the bed, keeping the sheet wrapped around my chest.
"Lose the sheet, Shea." Dan tilted the gun toward his crotch, and then pointed it at Tre. "Get on your knees and blow me, or I'll blast the punk's head off."
I swallowed hard, my hands shaking. I didn't want to do this, but I couldn't let Tre get hurt.
"No, Shea, don't," Tre said, his voice strained. I didn't dare look at him. "Don't do it."
Dan glanced at Tre, contemptuous. Dan was shorter than Tre by several inches, thinner and had nowhere near the same bulk. He was dressed in an expensive suit, wore a Rolex and snakeskin shoes, gaudy gold rings on his fingers. His fine blond hair was coming loose at the sides, slicked back on the top. Dan was tense, nervous, fidgety, angry.
Tre, on the other hand, was naked except for the towel cinched around his waist. Fear and anger showed in Tre's dark brown eyes, but he was leaning back against the wall, arms crossed, seemingly relaxed. He was ready to pounce, I could tell. He had no intention of letting this happen.
I was frozen. I didn't know what to do. There was no way I could touch Dan. I'd rather die first. The problem was, Dan would kill Tre instead of me.
Dan pulled back the hammer of the pistol. "Now, bitch."
I forced my feet forward, one step at a time, still clutching the sheet to my chest. A few, far-too-short steps took me within hand's grasp of Dan. He snatched the sheet from my stiffened fingers, and I was naked, vulnerable. Dan reached for me again, with the hand gripping the pistol, pushed my head down. His other hand moved for his zipper, lowered it. He rooted in his boxers and pulled out his penis, still trying to force my unwilling head down.
For that split second, Tre was forgotten, all of Dan's attention focused on bending me to his will.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of movement, tan skin rippling through space. I threw myself to the side as Tre collided with Dan in a bone-crunching tackle. The gun went flying, landed under a chair. Tre and Dan rolled and came to a stop with Tre on top, fists flying, bashing, smashing. Dan's face crumpled under Tre's fist, and once again I had to pull him away. Tre scrambled away from the prone, limp, and bleeding form of my husband. My ex-husband. He may not have signed the papers, but he wasn't my husband.
Tre scooped up his jeans and shoved his legs into them, then stripped the bed of its sheets. He rummaged through Dan's pockets, emptying them, then manhandled his body into a chair, using the bed sheets to tie him up.
I was still frozen, shocked.
"Get dressed, Shea," Tre ordered. I stared at him, uncomprehending. "Shea? Are you with me? I ain't stayin' here. We gotta go. Come on, baby. Get dressed."
"Go? Where are we going?"
"Anywhere. Away from here, away from him." He grabbed my bra from the handle of the bathroom door where I'd left it, handed it to me, then pulled a clean pair of panties from my suitcase, along with a pair of boy-shorts and a T-shirt.
I put them on, numb. Seeing Dan had thrown my brain out of gear and I couldn't seem to get it to click back into place. Having clothes on got me running a bit better. I packed the rest of our stuff, and then Tre grabbed our bags as well as the set of keys from Dan's pockets. The key was
My heart stopped, and my mouth went dry. Tre tensed, but held his position.
"She's a woman, Dan," Tre said, "not a possession. Go away."
Tre stumbled backward with Dan following, the barrel of a pistol pressed against Tre's forehead.
"Don't tell me what to do, you little shit," Dan said, shoving the gun to send Tre stumbling backward. "I'll fucking kill you and no one will give a fuck."
Dan's pale blue eyes found me, a greedy, lecherous smile curved his mouth. "I see you got the whore all ready for me." He gestured with the barrel of the gun. "Get over here, bitch."
Tre's eyes were blazing with anger and fear. He glanced at me, and I shook my head. I didn't want him to get hurt because of me. I slid off the bed, keeping the sheet wrapped around my chest.
"Lose the sheet, Shea." Dan tilted the gun toward his crotch, and then pointed it at Tre. "Get on your knees and blow me, or I'll blast the punk's head off."
I swallowed hard, my hands shaking. I didn't want to do this, but I couldn't let Tre get hurt.
"No, Shea, don't," Tre said, his voice strained. I didn't dare look at him. "Don't do it."
Dan glanced at Tre, contemptuous. Dan was shorter than Tre by several inches, thinner and had nowhere near the same bulk. He was dressed in an expensive suit, wore a Rolex and snakeskin shoes, gaudy gold rings on his fingers. His fine blond hair was coming loose at the sides, slicked back on the top. Dan was tense, nervous, fidgety, angry.
Tre, on the other hand, was naked except for the towel cinched around his waist. Fear and anger showed in Tre's dark brown eyes, but he was leaning back against the wall, arms crossed, seemingly relaxed. He was ready to pounce, I could tell. He had no intention of letting this happen.
I was frozen. I didn't know what to do. There was no way I could touch Dan. I'd rather die first. The problem was, Dan would kill Tre instead of me.
Dan pulled back the hammer of the pistol. "Now, bitch."
I forced my feet forward, one step at a time, still clutching the sheet to my chest. A few, far-too-short steps took me within hand's grasp of Dan. He snatched the sheet from my stiffened fingers, and I was naked, vulnerable. Dan reached for me again, with the hand gripping the pistol, pushed my head down. His other hand moved for his zipper, lowered it. He rooted in his boxers and pulled out his penis, still trying to force my unwilling head down.
For that split second, Tre was forgotten, all of Dan's attention focused on bending me to his will.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of movement, tan skin rippling through space. I threw myself to the side as Tre collided with Dan in a bone-crunching tackle. The gun went flying, landed under a chair. Tre and Dan rolled and came to a stop with Tre on top, fists flying, bashing, smashing. Dan's face crumpled under Tre's fist, and once again I had to pull him away. Tre scrambled away from the prone, limp, and bleeding form of my husband. My ex-husband. He may not have signed the papers, but he wasn't my husband.
Tre scooped up his jeans and shoved his legs into them, then stripped the bed of its sheets. He rummaged through Dan's pockets, emptying them, then manhandled his body into a chair, using the bed sheets to tie him up.
I was still frozen, shocked.
"Get dressed, Shea," Tre ordered. I stared at him, uncomprehending. "Shea? Are you with me? I ain't stayin' here. We gotta go. Come on, baby. Get dressed."
"Go? Where are we going?"
"Anywhere. Away from here, away from him." He grabbed my bra from the handle of the bathroom door where I'd left it, handed it to me, then pulled a clean pair of panties from my suitcase, along with a pair of boy-shorts and a T-shirt.
I put them on, numb. Seeing Dan had thrown my brain out of gear and I couldn't seem to get it to click back into place. Having clothes on got me running a bit better. I packed the rest of our stuff, and then Tre grabbed our bags as well as the set of keys from Dan's pockets. The key was
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