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)
"Come on. Come on. Come on," I snapped, rearranging Che into the passenger seat, hands slapping the sides of his face.
There was a nasty gash on the side of his head. I wasn't sure if he'd hit something, or it was a bullet graze.
It wasn't until my seeking hands slid down his sides that I met something hot and sticky.
"No no no no," I whimpered, yanking at his shirt, dragging it upward, feeling my stomach clench and heave at the bullet wound in his side.
I didn't know a whole hell of a lot about vital organs, but I was pretty sure he wasn't hit in one. Just the edge of his stomach.
"I'm sorry, Che. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," I whimpered, pressing my head into his shoulder for a second as the tears started.
I needed to pull it together.
I couldn't break down.
I had to get him help.
And I had to get the car off the road with all its evidence on and in it.
It wasn't until a hand touched my hair that I realized he'd been moving again.
"You okay?" Che asked, voice a tight, strained sound.
I lurched backward, eyes swimming for a second until I blinked the tears away.
"No!" I hissed, but broke off on a hysterical laugh. "Are you okay? You're shot."
"Feel that," he agreed, nodding weakly.
Weakly.
Che.
Those words shouldn't have gone together.
But there was no denying they did at that moment.
"What happened?"
"I, ah, I think I'm a murderer now," I declared, my whole body starting to feel like it was shaking.
It was the adrenaline, I tried to rationalize, reassure myself.
But even knowing that didn't stop the effects of it coursing through me.
"No. I am," he said, shaking his head.
"Clearly not," I said, scoffing, pressing a hand to his forehead.
"If the cops come, I did it," he insisted. "Say it."
"No."
"Sass, say it."
"No. Shut up. You need to save your energy. I, ah, I need to find the phone and call Huck. He can fix this," I said, sure of it, as my hands moved along the floor, under the seat.
"Sass, I did it."
"Shut up!" I snapped, the shaking getting worse, making my body feel foreign and out of control. "The cops aren't going to come. We're going to get out of this." We had to.
Just as the thought was forming, though, the driver's door was being wrenched open, making a choked shriek escape me as a hand reached inside, grabbing my arm, starting to pull.
"Sass, quiet," Huck's calm voice said in my ear as he dragged me out of the car.
"Oh, thank God. He's shot," I explained, my heart trying to bust out of my chest.
"It's fine. I got it," he told me, dismissing me, but I couldn't even be offended. He was taking control of a situation I'd gotten them all into. "Go get in my car," he demanded. "Harm is going to get you guys safe."
"But Che," I insisted.
"Just fucking do it, Sass," he snapped, making me jolt. "I take care of my men," he added in a calmer voice. "But I can't do that if I'm worrying about you. Get in my car. And go."
Everything within me wanted me to stay.
But then McCoy was pulling up, rushing over toward Che's door, pulling it open, looking him over.
They had this.
They were more useful than I was with my whole body trembling.
I backed up toward Huck's SUV. Where Harmon was sitting in the driver's seat, pale as a ghost, hands clutching the wheel. I knew I probably should have offered to drive, to give her an out from her anxiety, but I was starting to feel a little light-headed from the events of the night. I wasn't sure I could have driven a car even if I wanted to.
As I was sliding into the passenger's seat, I saw another vehicle pulling up. But not a car. Or a bike.
A truck.
A moving truck.
Seeley was the one who jumped out from the front, even though I was reasonably certain he wasn't old enough to rent a car at all.
"Can they get it in there?" I heard Harmon ask as Seeley opened the back.
"Yeah," I said, nodding. "But whoever drives it in is going to be stuck unless they climb out the window and over the hood," I explained, then winced, wondering if that was a trigger for her car issues.
"Can it carry that weight?" she pressed.
"Che's car is light," I explained. It would be fine. And it would immediately get it out of sight. I could be a criminal for the rest of my life, and I would never be that clever.
"Harmon, go!" Huck yelled as McCoy helped Seeley put a ramp on the truck.
Snapping out of it, Harmon reversed the car, body shaking, then moved past all of them, taking us back toward Golden Glades, then past where we would turn for the clubhouse.