The Commander (Men of Hidden Justice #3) Read Online Melanie Moreland

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Mafia, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Men of Hidden Justice Series by Melanie Moreland
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Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
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“What are you going to do with him?”

“Put the fear of God into him.”

“Pretty sure it’s already there.”

“Just going to drive home the message.”

Sofia shook her head. “I’m not covering up murder, Julian.”

“Wouldn’t ask you to. He’s going to live. But he isn’t going to bother Tally or any other woman again. Once I’m done with him, the cops can have him.”

“You promise?”

“Yes. I’ll be back before she wakes up and knows I was gone.”

“I’ll watch her.”

“Okay. Let’s go.”

CHAPTER SIX

Tally

I woke up disoriented, aching, and exhausted.

Why was I so tired?

I tried to lift my head, but a gentle hand on my shoulder stopped me.

“What is it, baby? What do you need?”

I knew that voice.

I frowned in the dim light.

Why was Julian in my room?

There was a low chuckle. “I’m not in your room, Tally. You’re in mine.”

I tried to focus on the walls. I recognized the pictures from the other morning when I sat up all night making sure Julian was okay. Now, I was the one lying in his bed, my head on his lap. I felt his light touch running through my hair, gentle and even. I cleared my throat.

“I’m thirsty,” I rasped out.

“Okay.” He slid his hand under me, helping me to sit up. For a moment, the room spun, then it righted itself and Julian came into view. His beard was thicker, and he was bare-chested. His eyes were dark with worry, his brow furrowed as he studied me. He held a glass to my lips, and I sipped at the cold water gratefully.

“I need, ah, I need…” I trailed off and indicated the door to the washroom. Julian stood, holding out his hands, and he helped me from the bed. I swayed a little, then everything fell into place, and I shuffled to the washroom, Julian close behind me.

At the door, I paused, still confused and not sure what had happened.

“I’ve got it from here,” I rasped.

He lifted his eyebrows. “I’ll wait right here, then.”

“I need some privacy.”

“When you can walk on your own, know where you are, and can recite the alphabet backward, you get your privacy. Until then, I’m standing right here.”

I blinked, unsure how to respond. He indicated the door. “I’ll close it, but I’m not leaving. You are too unsteady.”

He was right, so I gave in and went inside. As I passed the vanity, I looked at my reflection, stopping in horror. There were bruises on my neck—distinct fingerprints. When I pulled up the sleeves of the T-shirt I was wearing, seeing more bruises, a sob burst from my throat, and in an instant, the door flung open and Julian strode in. He saw me, his expression immediately softening. He stood behind me, wrapping his hands around my waist and pulling me close to his chest, his warmth and nearness welcome.

“They’ll fade, Tally,” he assured me, not offering mindless platitudes or telling me it was okay. “And he won’t get near you again. No one will hurt you again.”

“My head hurts,” I whispered.

“I’m not surprised. You hit that brick wall really hard. But it will ease as well. Tomorrow will be better.”

I hung my head, unsure how to respond.

“I’ll be outside. Call me when you’re finished.”

I nodded.

When he left, I looked up again, noting my bloodshot eyes and the scratches on my hands. I used the toilet, washed my face and hands, and brushed my teeth with a fresh toothbrush I assumed Julian had left for me. I ran my fingers through my hair, the jumbled mass of curls too much to try to fix, and I headed for the door. Julian was there, and I walked past him, then stopped, unsure where to go.

He strode to the bed and lifted the light blanket. “Back to sleep.”

“I should go home and rest and stop taking up your time.”

He lifted one eyebrow, waiting.

“I can’t stay here.”

He tugged on my hand, his touch gentle. “You can and you are.”

I sat on the edge of the bed, and he sighed. Then he sat on the chair next to it and handed me some pills and more water.

“I’ll rub more cream into your bruises, and you can go back to sleep.”

“You kept waking me all night.”

“Yes. Sofia wanted to make sure there were no hidden problems with your concussion. You can sleep now, and I won’t bother you.”

“What about you? You must be tired.”

He smiled, running a finger over my cheek, tucking a curl behind my ear. “I’ll nap on the sofa.”

“No. You take the bed, and I’ll go to the sofa.”

He scrubbed his face. “Are you always this stubborn?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not leaving you alone. You rest better when I’m close.”

“Then stay here with me.”

He didn’t say anything. Not while he rubbed cream into my skin, his touch gentle. Not while he watched me take the pills, his gaze intense. Not a word passed his lips as he lifted the covers and let me slide in, then lay beside me once he made sure I was comfortable.


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