Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 66454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
It’s angry shouting. More than two men arguing in what I think is Russian. Or maybe German. I don’t know. All I know is that I don’t understand anything they're saying, and I shouldn’t be here. I look behind me for a moment, but I don’t know where those three men are. Fuck. Fuck.
I don’t know what to do. The yelling gets louder and closer. My heart hammers faster in my chest. I feel lost and trapped as my throat closes with fear.
I could just run as fast as I can through the opening. It’s large enough that a car could get through. But they sound so close. If they saw me, they’d definitely be able to catch me before I made it out the other side.
I take a deep breath and chance a look, just a small glance to see what’s happening.
My breathing slows, and the only thing I can hear is my blood rushing in my ears. My heart thumps, thumps, thumps way too loud. They’re going to hear me; they’re going to see me.
I feel a small sense of relief as I see a row of trashcans blocking the path. I can see past them though. Maybe twenty feet from me, there's a group of men gathered in the parking lot of a warehouse.
I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s not good. So far, no one's spotted me since I'm peeking around the corner with just part of my head showing. I could still get down on the ground, try crawling in the dirt and gravel, and hope I get through unnoticed.
Instead I watch, paralyzed with disbelief at what I’m seeing.
A man’s standing apart from the others. It’s not the fact that he’s in a custom-tailored suit when they rest of them are all in wrinkled khakis or worn-out jeans. He’s one of the tallest men, with broad shoulders that stretches the rich fabric tight across his gorgeous frame. But that’s not it either. His very presence is a dominating force. It’s the air around him.
He’s a dangerous man. The other men may be mean, or even pure evil. But this man is ruthless, calculated, and something tells me he can get away with it. He’s a man who isn’t denied, and for good reasons. The shadows on his face only make his high and sharp cheekbones even more severe. A light dusting of rough stubble lines his hard jaw.
He’s handsome in the most sinful ways, but he’d break you without thinking twice. Maybe even intentionally.
He straightens his crisp white shirt from under his dark navy suit with a gun still firmly in his hand, his finger on the trigger. His barely contained anger is evident even at this distance. He’s listening to the man screaming, the one being dragged over on his knees to the center where the other men are circling.
Another man, Ricky, is yelling back. At least I think that's his name, since that's what it sounds like they're calling him. Ricky is obviously in charge of the group of men who are mostly dressed in dark denim jeans, and Henleys or hoodies.
All but him.
All of them are under Ricky's control, except the man with the absolute power.
Their guns are pointed at the one man who’s unarmed and on his knees. Two men are pushing down on his shoulders, forcing him to maintain that position.
“Fuck you! Fuck all of you!” the man on his knees yells out and spits on the ground.
“So it’s true!” yells one of the men holding him down.
“Fucking pig! Fucking liar!” the men are yelling, practically chanting. I realize with a start that the man being forced to kneel must be an undercover cop. I fumble in my clutch for my phone. I need to get help.
“What did you tell them?” asks Ricky. Bang! I almost scream and have to cover my mouth with my hands as the sound of a bullet cries out and echoes through the alley. My phone drops to the ground, and the screen cracks from the impact.
My heart stills as Ricky yells out and grabs the cop's shoulder.
Somehow I don’t think they heard me, or saw me. Their focus is on the cop who's still on his knees clutching his leg and wincing in pain.
“The next one will be in your skull.” Ricky walks closer to the man and puts the gun up to his temple, twisting the barrel of the gun to taunt him. “What did you tell them?”
The kneeling man attempts to laugh although he’s in obvious pain. “Just do it. You’ll never get anything from me.” He sneers as blood soaks through his jeans. It’s so dark, it almost looks black.
No! No! I need to do something. As I bend down to get my cracked phone, the man in the dark suit moves forward. A hush falls over the men. The only exception is Ricky, who’s cussing and making threats that don’t seem to affect the undercover cop.