Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 44321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Faith hummed as she came back from behind the bar and stopped in front of him. “Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Faith said.
He looked into her eyes and waited.
“What happened to my wedding dress?” she asked.
“Your wedding dress?”
“Yeah, we had it that night, you know, and, uh, I haven’t seen it since.”
He loved it when she went all innocent and red-faced. She looked so cute and sweet. He’d fucked her and knew there was no longer an innocent bone in her body, apart from her ass. He’d not claimed her ripe, juicy ass, but he’d been toying with her, preparing her.
“Why do you want to know?” he asked.
“I wanted to burn it. I think it could be a lot of fun.”
“I destroyed it,” he said.
Well, he assumed Golubev destroyed it.
“Ah, no worries. Was it fun?” Faith asked.
“Yes.”
He couldn’t help but look past Faith’s shoulder to see Road sitting in the corner, enjoying a beer. Road knew not to say shit to her. Faith would never know what he did.
“Cool. I better go and get them their beer.”
Brute watched her go. The door closed and then he heard it, the sound of tires squeaking and the unimaginable sound of gunshots. Brute had already drawn his weapon and run out of the clubhouse. He didn’t give a shit who it was, he took aim and fired, running straight toward the gate.
Years of experience told him not to go for the windows, but for the tires, and that’s exactly what he did.
They weren’t prepared for his men waiting. While Brute took out the two tires facing him, his men had taken out the back two. He owned the building across the street and he made sure three men were there at all times. They saw what was coming.
Brute heard screams, along with his name being called, but he didn’t stop. He walked into the street where the car was stopped. The driver had hit a lamp. With no tires and no driver, the car had literally come to a stop. They must have slowed down to take the hit.
Hail, Krill, and Igor came out of the opposite building.
One of the men were trying to climb out of the car. The moment he saw Brute, he began to scream and clearly scramble for his weapon, but he was no match for him. Brute yanked him out of the car and he saw the sign on the back of his neck—a single dove.
“Please don’t shoot. Don’t shoot!” he said, shaking.
This was a first for Brute. He looked at the soldier. “How old are you?”
“Eighteen.”
Brute paused and looked into the car to see all the men within the car looked young.
“Who sent you?” he asked.
“Golubev. He promised us ten grand each to get some chick. All we had to do was put a bullet in her. Please don’t shoot. Please.” He was already crying and the scent of urine became strong.
“You swore your loyalty to the Golubev. You knew what your actions were causing.”
And then, he shot him straight through the head. The body dropped to the ground, and Road came over.
“What is it?” Road asked.
“Since when did Golubev hire teenage boys to do his bidding?” Brute asked.
He didn’t like the feeling that swept over him.
“He never has,” Road said.
“Find out who they are. I want all the details,” he said.
“Faith’s hit!” Tank said, calling out to him.
Brute swung toward the clubhouse and it was like his life went in slow motion. He had been so focused on the hit, on Golubev, he hadn’t thought about Faith, but she had walked out of the clubhouse. It had been seconds. That was all it had taken.
He ran back to the clubhouse and Faith had been taken inside. The brothers had put the tables together and Faith was on them. Her shirt had been ripped open, and he saw the blood.
“The doctor is already on the way,” Sarge said. “I’m doing what I can to stop the bleeding.”
Brute looked at her stomach, blood was coming from her side and from her chest as well. Faith looked so pale. They had no choice but to get her to the hospital.
Brute picked her up in his arms, and the brothers already knew what he was doing. Road had pulled out the car. There was no way he’d have been able to safely take her to the hospital on his bike. She was limp in his arms.
“I’ve got you, Faith. Don’t let go. Do you hear me? Don’t fucking let go.” He gritted his teeth, climbed into the back of the car, and did something he’d not done in a long time. He begged.
He fucking begged, for whoever was listening to him, to make sure she fucking lived.
Chapter Thirteen
Brute hated hospitals.
Nothing good ever came from a hospital. Not in his experience. His hands were covered in dried blood. He paced the waiting room, not giving a shit that he scared the other customers.