“You hit her too hard,” a voice calls from somewhere outside my car. “Shit, check to make sure she’s not dying, you fucking idiot.”
Just as the voice filters through, so does the pain.
I squeeze my eyes shut, my body pulsating with sharp agony. I moan as the feeling worsens until I can’t think past my broken body.
A head appears in my window. I meet the gaze of a man with darker skin and bottomless black eyes.
“She’s alive,” he announces, a relieved smile curling one side of his lips.
“Get her out,” an answering voice demands sharply.
“What do you want from me?” I groan, swatting weakly at his hands that are messing with the buckle on my seatbelt. He doesn’t answer, so I keep asking.
“Shut the fuck up before I knock you out!” he bellows. The click of the seatbelt is my only warning before my body drops down headfirst. I scream, pain lancing down my neck and shoulders.
The man grabs my arm and works my body out of the driver’s side window, dragging my body across glass and sharp metal.
“Stop it,” I moan, sobbing as he finally gets me out. “Why are you doing this?”
Panting, the man leans over me and looks me over.
“Once you’re healed up, you’re going to be worth a pretty penny,” he says, a crooked grin on his face.
“Just get her in the van, Rio. Max’s already going to be pissed we fucked up his van, so quit fucking around. The police will be here soon.”
Another flash of a grin, “Time to go to sleep, princess.”
And then darkness.
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Acknowledgments
I feel like I have so many people to thank for this book, and I have no idea where to start. But what I do know, is this is going to be long, but I think we can tell by the size of my books I don’t do short.
So, I’ll start where I always do. The readers. I can’t thank all of you enough. Like all authors, we can only hope that you love our books. These stories—we write them for ourselves. We write what makes us happy. Because if we don’t, we’ll never survive in this career. Most know, writing books is really fucking hard, so it feels impossible when you don’t love it. And if we don’t love it, how could we expect someone else to? And then, what’s the point in writing if no one loves it?
At the end of the day, we want our readers to love them with us. To enjoy something we poured our souls into, and come out of it feeling like you experienced this story right along with us. There’s honestly no greater joy than that. And I appreciate all of you for taking this journey with me.
There’s no one else I can begin with other than the two people who played a major role in this book and in my life. Cue the sappiness.
I met them both in the same exact way—I reached out and asked them to take a chance on me and read my book, and they both became two of the most important people in my life. They listened to me talk endlessly about this book and these characters, brainstorm, asking questions and offering advice, and reading snippets and yelling at me for splattering （aka doubting myself.）
First, Amanda. You’re my best friend, plain and simple. You’re my other half, my soulmate, and everything else in between. If it wasn’t for you, I’m not sure I’d still be in this community. You’ve helped me through some pretty dark times and showed me love when I felt completely alone. We have a connection unlike anything else and sometimes, I’m still in awe that I got so lucky to find you. I just hope you know you’re stuck with me—forever.
May, what the hell would I do without you? I can’t fathom it and I don’t want to. When I first met you, I felt a connection to you that I couldn’t quite explain. So much so that even when I barely knew you, I asked you to be my alpha reader. I just knew you were someone special and I wanted you to be more than just a reader, but a friend. Yet, you’ve become so much more than that. Thank you for being my constant. You’re always there, checking in on me and Zade and selflessly offering up your help whenever I need it. And you’ve shown me endless support and love, and I seriously can’t express enough how much that means to me.