WILDER (BRUTAL BOYS OF SIN #3) BY LEILA JAMES – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Leila James
- Language: English
- Genre: Contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 7.4 MB
- Price: Free
WILDER
The sound of vomit gurgling violently from the twitching man before me
makes my stomach turn over. He’s splayed out in his armchair, body
twitching as life drains from him and his glassy eyes go blank. I’m stunned,
frozen in place, unable to take myself from this scene.
It’s fuckin’ disgusting, the way the mess flows from his mouth like a
puke-beige river down his chin. My eyes flick to the football game playing
loudly on the den’s big-screen TV. Cold, sticky sweat trickles down my back
as I stare, unable to quite believe the horror of it all. I blink. Hard. Then do
it again. The air is heavy with both the stench of the cigar left on the
ashtray and the rancid stomach contents that now dribble from chin to
chest. I inhale and almost gag but choose to focus on the whiskey tumbler
that sits beside the cigar, completely empty of the amber liquid he loves so
much. He’s always swallowed it down like it’s nothing.
I drag in a shaky breath as I stare down, then suddenly it’s all too much.
I can’t handle it. My stomach revolts. The bitterness that’d been threatening
surges up to the top of my throat, and I whirl around, stumbling for the
small bathroom across the hall with a hand over my mouth. I don’t make it.
I fall to my hands and knees, upchucking my dinner all over the cold tile
floor.
My heart jumps around in a psychotic rhythm that I can’t control. Shock
at the sight of the lifeless bodies in Beckham’s bed slams into me. My ears
buzz, static filling them and making me unable to hear anything around me.
On instinct, I turn, snatching up the small trash can beside Beckham’s desk.
The bourbon I’d drunk earlier comes spewing from me over and over until
I’m left gasping and panting.
This is the second time in my life I’ve seen a dead body, not including
the cadavers in my anatomy lab. I’d only been able to look for a split
second, as the two lying there naked with their throats slit had thrown me
directly into the memory of the day my dad died in his favorite armchair,
surrounded by his favorite things: booze, cigars, and football.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and set the basket down,
telling myself to pull it the fuck together. We’ve got to call for help. There’s
a party raging downstairs—a houseful of people who are completely
oblivious to the murder scene above their heads.
Swallowing hard, I grimace at the very real possibility that they’ll send
Brian Kilroy over here. It’s not a huge police department. There are only so
many detectives. Fuck. I rub my hands over my face. People are dead. It
doesn’t fucking matter how much I hate my goddamn brother-in-law. Or
how ugly things might get for Royal. Or that we’re trying to avoid the cops
right now because of Echo’s psycho stalker. We have to call. Now. Every
minute we wait makes this look worse.
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