But I Need You - W. Winters Page 0,55
flashes me a narrowed, untrusting gaze.
“I’m only going to ask you this once, and I expect full disclosure and honesty.” The severity in his tone sends a prick of warning down my spine. “You only have one chance to keep your job, Special Agent Walsh. If there’s even a possibility of that. How is the wanted criminal who goes by Marcus involved in all this? I want to know everything you know about him.”
To be continued…
The third and final book is available for preorder now: And I Love You the Most.
The first book belonged to Delilah. The second to Marcus. The third is Cody’s … in a way. You’ll have to read it and see.
This Love Hurts.
But I Need You.
And I Love You the Most, book three, is the epic conclusion in this darkly provocative, woven tale.
Pre Order today!
Don’t stop reading! If you haven’t read the binge-worthy Merciless series, featuring an EPIC antihero brought to his knees, dive in today. It’s the beginning of this world, a dark and modern retelling of a tale as old as time. You’re going to love it!
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Sneak Peek at Merciless
From USA Today bestselling author W Winters comes a heart-wrenching, edge-of-your-seat gripping, romantic suspense.
I should’ve known she would ruin me the moment I saw her.
Women like her are made to destroy men like me.
I couldn’t resist her though.
Given to me to start a war; I was too eager to accept.
But I didn’t know what she’d do to me. That she would change everything.
She sees through me in a way no one else ever has.
Her innocence and vulnerability make me weak for her and I hate it.
I know better than to give in to temptation.
A ruthless man doesn’t let a soul close to him.
A cold-hearted man doesn’t risk anything for anyone.
A powerful man with a beautiful woman at his mercy … he doesn’t fall for her.
Chapter 1
Carter
War is coming.
It’s something I’ve known for over two years.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
My jaw ticks in time with the skin over my knuckles turning white as my fist clenches tighter. The tension in my stiff shoulders rises and I have to remind myself to breathe in deep and let the strain of it all go away.
Tick. Tock. It’s the only sound echoing off the walls of my office and with each passing of the pendulum the anger grows.
It’s always like this before I go to a meet. This one in particular sends a thrill through my blood, the adrenaline pumping harder with each passing minute.
My gaze moves from the grandfather clock in my office to the shelves next to it and then beneath them to the box made of mahogany and steel. It’s only three feet deep and tall and six feet long. It blends into the right wall of my office, surrounded by polished bookshelves that carry an aroma of old books.
I paid more than I should have simply to put on display. All any of this is a façade. People’s perceptions are their reality. And so I paint the picture they need to see so I can use them as I see fit. The expensive books and paintings, polished furniture made of rare wood… All of it is bullshit.
Except for the box. The story that came with it will stay with me forever. In all of the years, it’s the one of the few memories that I can pin point as a defining moment. The box never leaves me.
The words from the man who gave it to me are still as clear as is the memory of his pale green eyes, glassed over as he told me his story.
About how it kept him safe when he was a child. He told me how his mother had shoved him in it to protect him.
I swallow thickly, feeling my throat tighten and the cord in my neck strain with the memory. He painted the picture so well.
He told me how he clung to his mother seeing how panicked she was. But he did as he was told, he stayed quiet in the safe box and could only listen while the men murdered his mother.
It was the story he gave me with the