Read Online Vegas Moon by R. M. Sotera - Free Book Online Page A

explain that comment.”
    “No. I don’t need to explain what I said.” Her face took on a fearful expression and then just as quickly morphed into a confrontational one. “Why must I explain?”
    “Because baby, your head-games are bull-shit.”
    Had she just realized she said she loved him in a roundabout way?
    Hell no, she wasn’t getting away from admitting it this time. He snatched her by the wrists holding her place.
    “You know what, baby? This time you do. You may not want to explain it, but I want to hear it. I’m so tired of playing games with you. Why in the hell can’t you admit how you feel about me?”
    “Words are cheap. You know how I feel about you.”
    He released his grasp on her wrists and swung his legs over the bed preparing to escape before their discussion turned into another fight. “They may be cheap, but sometimes a man needs to hear them.”
    He’d already got out of bed and dressed when she asked after a long silence, “Where are you going?”
    “To raid the liquor cabinet and drink myself into oblivion. I need to get you out of my system tonight. It’s just too bad that drinking won’t rip you from my system completely.”
    He was already out the door when she yelled, “Wait. You don’t mean that.”
    The door slammed, and he kept on walking. He damned well meant it. With everything that had transpired tonight, the seriousness of events, how could she still deny him the three words he needed to hear from her? Well, at least he could drown his sorrows tonight. Lick his wounds per se. He’d surely regret it in the morning, but for tonight, it would be his solace. Jack Daniel’s was waiting for him. It was never nice to make a good friend wait very long. The living room was dark. Just the moonlight sifted through the closed window shades. He grabbed the bottle of Jack from the cabinet, positioned himself comfortably on the sofa, and then stuck one of the small couch pillows under his head setting out to drink himself into oblivion. After he’d downed about a third of the bottle, he calmed and slipped into peaceful oblivion.
    Restful, forgetful sleep turned into head games, with Cindi as his dream lover. He tossed and turned until finally a sound tore him from his dream world. Half-dazed he opened his eyes.
    A moment later all hell broke loose.
    A blood-curdling scream sounded. Panic and confusion fought for space in his head. He sprang into a sitting position. As he shook his head to clear his fogged senses, the scream came again. He lunged from the sofa and his toe hit an object at his feet. He glanced down at the half-empty Jack bottle and was reminded of all previous activities.
    No wonder he felt like shit.
    And the scream came again.
    Moments later he’d bolted through his bedroom door. Cindi still slept as her low whimper filled the room. When he reached the bed, he slipped his arms around her and pressed her upper body close to his chest. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re having a bad dream,” he whispered, sliding an open hand across her forehead.
    Sweat soaked her brow.
    Her startled blue eyes opened. An unfocused look searched his face. “Tristan?”
    When he’d drank himself into a drunken stupor, he was so mad at her he wanted to do everything he could to hurt her, but now she was different. She was holding onto him like a scared child. This was a side of her that he’d only seen a few times, and those times were shortly after her and Mia’s kidnapping.
    The things that Ennisbrooke did to Cindi, no woman should have had to endure. And the images that filled his head from earlier this evening, the ones he’d tried to forget, came again. When Jamison and Jordan found Cindi, she was beaten to a pulp and mentally castrated. Tristan still didn’t know the full extent of Ennisbrooke’s infliction of pain, only that it was constant for an entire three days. Tristan would have fully understood if Cindi never wanted to take part in the blood-play sport again after her