Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
"It was a tiny chunk taken out. I didn't need to. Yours was bleeding a lot."
"Yeah, I'm drained," he admitted, and I noticed for the first time just how pale he looked. "But I'm okay," he insisted. "Thanks to you," he added, reaching out to tuck my hair behind my ear.
"I'm pretty sure all of this happened because of me," I shot back, the guilt a churning, ugly thing in my stomach.
"No, Sass," he said, shaking his head.
"What do you mean, no? I was the one who brought the crazy people with the guns into your lives."
"Turns out, we have our own crazy people with guns too. Tonight happened to be my problems getting both of us into trouble. And if it wasn't for you keeping your head about you, we'd both be dead."
"I killed people tonight, didn't I?" I asked, stomach tightening.
"Yeah," he said, nodding.
"I've never killed anyone before."
"They would have killed me," he told me. "And they would have likely done other things to you, and killed you too," he went on, making bile rise up in my throat. "You had no choice. It was us or them."
"But what about the cops?" I asked, pretty sure I wasn't going to survive a life in prison.
"It's handled."
"How can it be handled?"
"No one left the car," he said, shrugging. "There was no DNA."
"Yeah, but the bullets? The car treads? The damage to the car? The tree with evidence of the car?"
"What car?" he asked, brows raising.
"That car is your baby," I said, my heart cracking.
"It's just a car," he told me, shrugging.
"I'll help you rebuild a new one," I told him.
"I'd like that. But you don't have to. Like I said, this was our problem, not yours."
"But the gun?"
"Preciosa, we would be shitty arms dealers if our guns could be traced back to us. Or anyone," he added, shooting me a smirk.
"Right," I said, snorting. "Yeah. But... but the bodies? But the traffic cameras?"
"The bodies don't trace back to us in any way. They're a couple Ukrainian mafia lackeys. And there weren't any traffic cameras around there. Even if there were, my car isn't registered. The plates are bullshit."
"Our faces?"
"You mean when we were pushing nearly two-hundred?" he asked.
"Right." No camera was good enough to catch faces going that fast.
"Besides, you weren't on that road tonight. You keep forgetting. You were out with Harmon, your good friend. And you both were too tired to drive back home, so you crashed with Teddy. Also a good friend. With very deep pockets. And very good lawyers. None of our problems are going to be your problems, Sass. I promise you that."
"I can't make those same promises," I told him, shoulders slumping.
"You don't need to. You saved my life tonight. I owe you a-fucking-gain," he told me, giving me a big, encouraging smile.
"You shouldn't be the one comforting me. You got shot."
"It's not a big deal. Seeley cleaned it out for me. And thanks to him, we actually keep a suture kit in the house now for this type of thing. So I'm all good."
"Except if you get an infection."
"So, Seeley can hit his many street contacts, and score me some antibiotics. Stop worrying about me. I'm fine. This is the life I chose, Sass. It comes with risks. I'm okay with them. And the consequences of them too. But I'm worried about you," he said, head ducking to the side slightly.
"I'm fine," I insisted, willing myself to believe it was true.
"Sass..."
"I am!" I said, voice squeaking. "A little life-or-death car chase is good for the soul," I added, feeling my lower lip tremble.
"It's okay if you're not okay," he told me, reaching out, putting a tentative hand at my hip.
And that little touch, it seemed to unravel me.
"I'm just a little... I'm a little freaked out," I admitted, still trying to play it down even as Che pulled me closer.
"Freaked out is alright. So is upset. Or confused. Or pissed. Even if you're pissed at me. It's alright," he told me, arm wrapping around me, holding me to his chest.
"I think I just need—" I started, getting cut off by the door flying open.
"Che, you had your ten minutes. Church," Huck barked, making Che sigh as we broke apart. "You," Huck went on, looking at me. "I owe you."
"No, really, it's—"
"I owe you," he cut me off. "But I need to steal Che now."
And with that, he was gone.
Che followed numbly behind, turning to give me a long look.
"It's okay. Go," I said, watching as a sad, but resigned, look crossed his eyes as he gently closed the door.
And I was alone again.
I went ahead and kept unraveling.
Until, eventually, I was too exhausted to stay awake any longer.
Chapter Nine
Che
It was all a blur at first.
I'd woken up disoriented. By the knock to my head, by the pain at my side, by the fact that the car was no longer in the woods, and there weren't men chasing us.