Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
I had no fucking idea.
I’d never felt quite as helpless as I did as I circled around the town again. Not even when I’d had all my rights and freedoms stripped away.
This was worse.
Leagues worse.
Because I knew exactly what was in store for Abigail once Raúl got his hands on her again.
I needed to stop wasting time.
I needed to go back, regroup, think, get some other people involved.
Hailstorm, they had surveillance all over town. They could find the van, they could trace it.
I needed to talk to Chris or Lo.
Decision made, I circled back, heading toward the apartment, finding the street lined with bikes. But no cops. No ambulances.
What the hell?
Didn’t Seth say Finn and Louana were hit?
Even as I thought that, I could see bloodstains on the cement.
I rushed off my bike, flying up into my apartment to find Fallon bent over his little brother’s shoulder, digging in his flesh for a bullet that had seemed to luckily avoid hitting anything vital.
Thank fuck.
“Louana?” I choked out, surprised I could even think of another woman’s name when Abigail was out there, being held by the same people who’d kept her captive for years.
“Bathroom. She’s fine,” Seth said as I fell back against the wall, cradling my head in my hands.
“We thought it was the delivery people with the couch,” Finn explained, then broke off on a curse as Fallon finally got the bullet, yanking it out, then dropping it with a pinging noise in the sink.
“I’m not blaming you,” I said, shaking my head.
For fuck’s sake, there was three of them. If it happened with three of them there to try to protect her, the chances of me having been able to protect her were slim to none.
“That mother fucker,” I hissed, helplessness filling my body, making me turn and lash out, slamming my fist into the wall, feeling it go right through the drywall.
“Whoa, Zaddy, might need those fists,” Dezi said, shaking his head at me. “Don’t go breaking your fucking fingers before you can wrap ‘em around that fucker’s throat.”
He was right.
I wasn’t a lashing out in anger sort of person.
Then again, I’d never been someone who had someone who meant so much to them before.
“I’ve got Chris on the cameras,” Fallon said, giving me a nod as he slapped—yes, literally slapped, because brothers were assholes to each other—the bandage on Finn’s shoulder. “We will find something.”
Yes, we would.
We always did.
But would it be too late by then?
Eventually, Fallon and Valen brought Finn and Louana back to the clubhouse to recover, leaving me, Dezi, Seth, and Voss standing around feeling completely fucking useless.
Until there was the sound of car doors on the ground below, making us all stiffen and draw our weapons.
“Couldn’t see who it was,” Seth said, shaking his head as he looked out the window. “Black SUV. That’s all I got.”
Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Two sets, maybe three. Not in any kind of rush, and definitely not trying to be quiet.
“Knock knock,” A’s voice sounded a second before he pushed open the door, coming in behind a bloodied man he was holding by the back of his collar.
“The fuck is this?” I asked, eyeing the other man who stayed back in the hall, face expressionless.
“Heard there was some trouble ‘round here. Kind of trouble that had lil’ mama getting snatched up, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I said, stomach tensing.
A nodded his head a couple times as he pursed his lips in an expression that, for him, seemed like anger.
“Tell ‘em,” A demanded, yanking back the collar of the man in front of him. “Said fucking tell ‘em,” Andres barked in a cold, alarmingly calm tone just a second before he slammed his foot into the back of the man’s leg, making him go down on one knee.
“Oh, that’s right. You can’t,” A said, smirking in such an evil way that I felt a chill move through me. “Cut that wagging fucking tongue out back at home,” he added, looking over at us. “See, me, I don’t like it when my men start talking shit about my fucking business, you know what I mean?” A asked.
“A…” I said, shaking my head.
“Well, I heard the news,” A said, looking at me. “And it got me thinking about the timing. Which got me thinking about our little meeting. Not all these fucks,” he said, waving toward his two men, “have been with me from the jump. Some came on board more recently. Seems like I put a little too much trust in ‘em. But, see, I got eyes and ears everywhere. So all I had to do was roll back some footage. And guess who I heard talking my shit—and your shit—to Raúl’s cousin?”
“You mother fucker,” I hissed.
“So, me and Al here, we had a little talk,” A said. “And in that talking, heard the plan to snatch lil’ mama in a truck that would meet up at a private landing strip where Raúl would be waiting.”