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Bleeding Hearts

f5c83cd7

Target Audience: Anyone who loves Romance/Suspence and is in the ages of 18-26. This New Adult Book is for those who will want a complex story line that has more than one story being written, buid up in suspence, and a bit of mystery.

Blurb: Camryn Lucks has always thought herself to be lucky. That is until the night her "perfect" boyfriend tried to kill her. Then again, maybe her name is still good luck since she survived the attack.

With Carson Lynch still on the loose and possibly still wanting to kill her, Cami must explore her memories of their relationship in the hopes of bringing the suspected serial killer to justice.

Will her memories help to catch a killer or at least give her some kind of understanding? Will Officer Isaac Signorelli manage to keep her safe? Or has her good luck finally ran out?

Excerpt:

Chapter 1 

I grip the cool handle of my gun, keeping a firm grasp to ensure it doesn’t slip out of my hand. The gun stands sentry in the night stand on the left side of my bed to scare the nightmares away. Although, this is no nightmare as the darkness hides the face of the man that is threatening to cut my throat. I can see the blood dripping off the shiny knife in front of him.  With shaky arms and weak knees, I point my gun at him. He doesn't move. He just stands there with the knife out front, breathing hard as if I'm actually a tough fight.  

We are at a stalemate. His dark, beady eyes rake over my body like I'm a piece of meat. I need to move if I'm going to get out alive. There's no telling what he will do to me before he kills me. The creep lifts the edges of his mouth into a smile. Before I can react, he lunges at me.  I'm surprised at the motion and trip over my own feet. I hit the ground hard, banging my head on the wooden frame of my bed. The sound of the knife clattering on the floor gives me slight hope. Not much, though. The gun falls out of my hand, landing a few feet away from me.  He grabs my waist and crawls further up my body.  

My heart is thumping out of my chest.   

I try to scoot away from him, but he yanks me toward him across the rough, rental-quality carpeting in my apartment, giving me rug burn while he slaps his hands around my neck.  My nails dig into his hands that are threatening to enclose around my airways. A small shriek sneaks out from between my lips. I pull at his hands, but it's no use.  My pulse is pounding in my ears. If only I can reach for my gun, then I can get loose.  

My attacker's hands tighten even more around my neck, blocking all chances of breathing. The salty mixture of sweat and tears run down the side of my face. With as much strength as I can muster, I slam my forearm into his elbow. He growls and loosens his grip on me. I gasp for air and scoot fervently out of his grip, my knee making contact with his groin. His

scream pierces my ears, my cheeks rise into a grin as I cringe.  I'm inches away from my gun when he grabs my foot. With the other foot, I kick him in his already crooked nose as hard as I can. He doesn't go far, yet it gives me the inch I need. Wrapping my fingers around the blood soaked gun, I aim it at the man and pull the trigger.  

The loud bang of the gun penetrates my eardrums. I can no longer hear anything. My attacker drops to the floor, clutching his shoulder. He didn’t scream when I shot him; that scares me more than anything that's happened. There's no time to check to see if he is alive.  

I stumble to my feet, grabbing the wall for support. The room starts to spin and I press a hand to my temple. Torrents of blood flows down the side of my face and neck. The rock band tee I wore to bed is ripped down the side, barely hanging onto my body. My only thought is to get out of my apartment and get to the cop that lives down the hall.  

I reach for the door, looking back one more time, pointing my gun at the murderer. He stands, which is my cue to run. I slam the door behind me, hoping it will stall him. Then I run. Two doors down, I slam my bloodied fists against his door. "Isaac!"

Doors start opening, my neighbors stare down the hall in disbelief as the scene unfolds in front of their eyes. I don't hear their panicky whispers nor do I see Isaac swing open the door. My eyes are trained on the assailant who appears in the hallway from the door of my apartment, bent, bleeding, and furious. His eyes, black with rage, show how angry he is. I point the gun at him; the horror of shooting a human floods my face as he smirks at me.  

"What the hell?" Isaac shouts, holding his hands up to surrender, but all I can really look at is the man hobbling towards me in record speed. Enough is enough. I fall into Isaac's apartment, straight into his arms. He catches me awkwardly, my body moving on its own accord to shut the door and lock it.  

A loud thump on the door makes me to yelp, jumping out of my skin. My body shakes uncontrollably as I hold the gun, aiming at the door. Somewhere between me pushing my way into the cop's apartment and locking the door, Isaac manages to press his phone to his ear. The gun in my hand is still aimed at the door.  

"This is Officer Signorelli, badge 0412. I need immediate backup to the Rose Garden Apartments. Send Officer Bain," he says into the phone, holding his hand out to keep me at bay. "Okay, thanks."  

All I can think of right now is how in the world I missed that man? How did I not shoot him in the head, or at least the chest? Tears fall down my swollen cheeks and I break down. My body crumbles to the ground in front of the door that separates me from my attacker.  The gun falls to the floor. Isaac swipes it up the moment it's out of my grasp, walking into his tiny kitchen. The sound of his ringtone blares through the space, and I hear him rummage through a few drawers.  

My throat burns as I scream, cry, all at once. Pulling at my blonde hair, soaked in blood, I curl into a fetal position. Isaac comes running into the room. His hand reaches for my shoulder and I shy away from him. 

He's safe. I'm safe here.  

"I'm sorry," I tell Isaac through choked sobs.  

"It's okay." He gently pulls me to his bare chest and picks my light body off the ground. I feel the cool, stiff material of the leather couch when he lays me down. My body finally aches from the beating I took tonight. A small whimper comes out with a sharp inhale. He drapes a blanket over my nearly-bare body. 

Isaac disappears into his bedroom down the hall and returns in a tee and jeans, his phone pressed to his ear again. His own gun hangs on his belt.  

"Yeah, okay. Thanks," he says and hangs up. A loud knock sounds at the door and I jump off the couch, screams emerging from my lungs. Looking around, I notice there are a few dirty dishes on the end table and a knife catches my eye. I snatch it up and point it towards the door. Isaac rushes over to me with arms outstretched.  

"It's okay. It's the police and they are here to help. Please put the knife down," he explains to me.  

"I-I can't," I shiver, the fear of dying weighing heavy in my heart. There's too much that I want to accomplish with my life.  

"Yes, you can. Look, if I don't answer the door, they will bust in and see you threatening a state trooper. Do you want that?"  

"No." Another sob shakes my body. My shoulders slump and the knife falls to the floor with a loud smack. I jump from the sound.  

"Okay. Just sit down. Please." He gives me a pleading look, then walks over to the door. As it opens I see three very large men and my mind flies to the murderer in my apartment. My muscles move on their own and I find myself backed into the far wall. The lamp crashes to the floor and another scream comes out of my mouth, making all four men turn towards me.  

Isaac rushes over, grabbing the blanket on the floor and covers my body. I'm hardly clothed. Skimpy lace panties and a ripped tee isn't really considered clothing. You can see everything. I reach for the soft blanket and Isaac wraps an arm around my shoulders. He leads me to the couch. I burrow into the corner and pull my legs up to my bruised chest, wincing from the pain.  

"Can you tell us your name, ma'am?" one of the officers asks. 

"Cami. Uh, Camryn Lucks," I whisper, rocking back and forth.  

"What happened, Ms. Lucks?" the same officer asks. The badge on his chest pocket reads Bain. This is whom Isaac requested.  

"Someone tried to kill me."

**The full story is on Wattpad. My account name is Icehorses12

https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/42519979-bleeding-hearts

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