Dirty Secrets by Lauren Landish Read Online (FREE)
Read Dirty Secrets (Get Dirty, #4) by Lauren Landish full novel online for free here.
The shot rings out, and before the echo even dies, I’m running to her. I don’t care about the rest. I just care about her. I will not allow harm to come to her.
I hear a high-pitched scream pierce the air. Someone’s hurt, and I start uselessly praying to anything listening to a devil like me . . . please, let her be okay. I’ll trade everything I have. The empire I’ve built can turn to dust if it’ll ensure her safety.
By the time I reach the hallway, there’s already a small group of my people standing in the doorway, mouths hanging open. Whatever they’re looking at, it’s the sort of shock that makes people forget themselves, the sort of thing only violence can bring. It’s a look I’m more than familiar with.
I don’t even have to order them to move. They just part like the red sea as I approach, barreling in to take stock of what’s happened. There’s blood spray on the walls and a dead guy in an expensive suit sitting in a chair, but he doesn’t matter. I’ll get the details on him later.
All that matters is Allie.
My heart starts beating again as I see her. She’s cowering in the corner, her brown eyes wide with terror. The spatters of blood on her face, on her breasts, on her stomach make me hot with fury, but at least she doesn’t seem to be wounded.
Still, the fact that someone has sullied her body, so sweet and tempting and mine, makes the insult of a hit in my territory that much worse. My men quickly follow my orders to handle the situation, but my attention never wavers from Allie. She’s what counts, and I can’t wait to get everyone else out of here.
Thankfully, my men are well-trained and professional. Once they scatter to carry out my commands, I gather her into my arms, ushering her into my office. She’s so shocked I finally scoop her up to carry her up the stairs, nudging open the door with a toe before I set her down in a chair, cringing at the smear of blood bright against the white leather. It doesn’t matter. I’m just thankful it’s not hers.
I fill a crystal glass with whiskey and force it into her shaky hand.
She glances at it unseeingly and I can tell she’s lost in her head, replaying what she just witnessed in her mind’s eye on an endlessly-looping, surreal repeat. I remember when I felt like that. In my mind, events slowed and sped up at chaotic intervals, fresh details coming forward to be blurred into confusion by the next replay as something else takes precedence. It pains me to watch my Allie suffer through the same torment.
I lift the glass with a gentle touch, and as it reaches her lip, she drinks reflexively. Encouraged, I tilt the glass up further, and she downs the whole shot.