I finally finished the book last night! I am sooooo happy. Right now I have three readers doing a read through for anything I missed or messed up on. I know I keep moving the date back on releasing the book but I want it to be as good as it possibly can be (especially after some of the lashings I received in UK amazon reviews for Mommy, May I? Yeah--remember that bad? When I uploaded a first draft version by mistake. Face palm! Big time! Word to the wise--when you name your files make sure it's really clear which draft it is.
So, until I get the book out I am continuing to upload chapters. Hope you are enjoying.
DISCLAIMER * This chapter (book) is rated R and is not suitable for audiences under 17. :)
Have a wonderful Tuesday.
Mark Pritchett loved watching the pretty doctor. Everyone loved watching pretty Dr. Morales. But he was by far the most skilled at watching without her ever knowing. Hell, he’d been watching her long before he’d gotten word only a few hours earlier to keep an eye on her.
That’s who he was—a watcher.
He couldn’t wait until he got the go-ahead to take care of her. They would want that, wouldn’t they? The Brotherhood wouldn’t just want him to keep an eye on her and then do nothing about it.
Mark wanted so badly to prove himself to The Brotherhood. He was tired of being a peon. He was worthy of so much more. He could do so much more for the cause. He knew he could. If only they’d give him the chance.
For now, Mark would bide his time. It wasn’t as if his assignment was a bad one. Keeping an eye on certain docs was easy, and he’d been doing a damn fine job of it. Watching them and reporting back in. Smooth as silk. He knew he should be happy they trusted him. There were not many of them who had been placed in a position like this. Out of all of the guys who could have been chosen, they’d chosen him.
There had been a handful of doctors on his list to watch, and then he was told to watch Dr. Morales. Closely. He’d about split a nut. She was gorgeous. But an ice-cold bitch. Like they all were. Women. From his mother to his fat-assed sister to the ex-girlfriend he should have killed for being the most annoying, pain in the ass on Earth.
Then there was Dr. Morales. Kelly…
Damn, he would have loved to see her face when the bad-ass detective told her about Hamilton. Priceless. He wondered what Hamilton had done to get himself iced. One thing he knew for sure was when you fucked with The Brotherhood, they didn’t mess around. Obviously.
Mark snuck inside a supply room and stuck his hand inside his elastic-waist pants, wrapping his palm around his already hard cock. He looked down. The tattoo above his navel made him smile—his identity.
Everything that swastika stood for, he stood for.
Thinking about the various ways he would destroy Dr. Morales excited him. He tightened his grip and moved his hand faster. Little Miss Big Shot doctor. Now that would be something, wouldn’t it? That would really be proving himself. Death. Murder. Yes. With the good doctor, he would look right into her eyes. He would make it a slow, torturous. A begging-for-mercy kind of thing. He would so enjoy that.
He thought more about Dr. Morales and the things he was going to do to her. It was pure ecstasy. He leaned against the wall, slid down to the floor, and finished himself off. He couldn’t wait much longer. But waiting was a must because Mark knew no matter how bad he was, the people he worked for were far worse.