Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 63055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
My brain’s moving too slowly to understand what he’s saying. He figured it out? Where the gold is? I don’t know how that’s even possible, but hope—that dangerous winged creature in my chest—starts trying to fly.
I’m also struck by the dangerous edge to his voice. I remember he uses anger to mask fear, and I can’t stop the tears of gratitude that leak from my eyes.
Salvatore’s grin is pure evil. He takes the phone off speaker and walks away. “Where are you?”
I can’t hear Bo’s answer beyond the muffled sound of his rough tones.
“2915 N. 45th. There’s a warehouse there. Meet me in forty minutes,” Salvatore says. Satisfaction is written across his face.
Forty minutes? Is Bo here? In Michigan? He must’ve come to get the gold. Or for me.
This guy is beyond heroic. Beyond capable. Beyond anything I deserve or could ever ask for.
And he did all this for me.
Tears stream down my face.
“Call the Russian and pick up the girl,” Salvatore says to Vinny and Tom. “He already paid for her.”
“Wait!” Panic slams through me. “Aren’t you taking me along? To trade for the gold?”
He leaves with another cluster of assholes dressed in suits and packing heat. The door slams.
Fuck!
I say a prayer on autoloop: please don’t kill Bo. Please don’t kill Bo. Please let us both get out of this alive.
Bo
I have a hard time not shifting. All the adrenaline dumping into my bloodstream makes my wolf want to come out and tear throats.
Soon.
I have to keep my head for now, though. Have to get Sloane safe.
I put the painting and gold bars in my backpack and start hoofing it to the meeting location, since I don’t have my own wheels. At first I think it’s the same location Sloane’s phone last registered before it went off, but it’s about a mile away.
I don’t let myself think of the things that they might’ve done to her by now. If I do, I’ll shift and rip my clothes right off.
I find the warehouse, but there’s no one around, so I lean my back against the cold metal wall to wait. Five minutes later, a souped-up Caddy shows up. The windows are tinted—probably bullet-proof windows. I can’t see if Sloane’s inside or not. The back door opens, and an older dude in a suit steps out. Two other guys come out and flank him.
It was hard to tell, but when I looked in, I swear there was no one else in the car. I step closer, trying to scent her. Trying to see in.
My gut tells me she’s not there, though.
Fuck! I knew I should’ve gone to the address she last showed up instead of this stupid meet location.
“Where’s Sloane?” I demand.
“Show me the goods.”
I unzip my backpack and show him the bars of gold and the painting. His eyes take on a greedy gleam that should’ve tipped me off to his next move, but I’m not worrying about him, I’m freaking about Sloane.
“Where the fuck is Sloane?” I demand.
The don pulls out a gun, points it at my chest and shoots. The impact throws me to my back.
It’s everything I can do not to shift, but I resist the urge because right before he fired, I swear to fate, I heard one of Coach’s lectures ricocheting through my brain.
Sometimes, in a fight, you gotta go down. Put your ego on ice and let them think you’re human like they are. Lose the personal fight. Take a win for the pack.
So I stay down where I fell, praying he won’t come over and point that gun at my head to finish me.
One of his guys scurries over to grab the bag, and then they’re gone. That fast.
Not sticking around to make sure I’m dead or get rid of my body, or anything.
Thank fuck.
I count to five, and then I’m up on my feet, tearing my clothes off and stuffing them behind a dumpster to shift. I need to be in wolf form to heal faster and stop the bleeding. And to get to that other address.
Please let her still be there.
Please let her still be alive.
I have zero hope they will let her go now that they have their shit. I have to find her.
Wolves should not be seen in cities in broad daylight, but I don’t have time to worry about pack rules. All I can hope is that I’m moving fast enough that anyone who sees me will not be sure what they saw.
When I get to the location I’d memorized, I’m rewarded with her scent.
And then I see her.
She’s being dragged to a running car by a slender blond guy with a gun to her ribs. There’s a sack over her head, but she’s walking on her own, and her hands are tied behind her back. I don’t see anyone in the car.