Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 70263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
“Man, we had nothing to do with whatever Henry was into,” one guy rambled, hands in front of him.
“We just help him occasionally,” the other man cried.
“Oh holy fuck. Please don’t kill us.”
Arlo looked right at me, and without taking his gaze off mine, he pointed one gun at the guy to the right and kept the other one trained on the man to the left. Then he pulled the triggers and shot them both perfectly in the head. It all happened in a matter of seconds, yet also seemed to go so slow it was like wading through water.
Three bodies now slumped over the card table, blood seeping into the green felt, my father behind me cursing, the gun at my back shaking from his nerves.
The scent of blood filling the room became so strong my stomach twisted, bringing me back to the present, time speeding up until I could remember to breathe again.
“Let her go,” Arlo said and aimed the gun right over my shoulder. He was a good shot, but how good of one when I was being used as a shield?
“Put the gun down and let me go. I ain’t got no fight in this,” my coward father mumbled from behind me. It was because of him that all of this was even happening.
My father had his arm raised and pointed the gun at Arlo as he started slowly backing up, one arm around my chest as he kept me firmly in place so if anyone got shot, it was me. “I mean it. Let me go or she dies.”
“You’d shoot your daughter to save your own ass?” Arlo asked calmly as he moved away from the table and came forward, staying far enough back that my father wasn’t spooked any more than he already was.
“She’s nothing to me.”
And wasn't that the truth. Nothing but a bargaining tool. Nothing but someone to sell to be raped and tortured just so his debts could be paid. I’d never meant anything to him, and that’s why when he rounded the corner with me, I pulled up the self-defense moves Arlo had taught me and leaned into him. It took him off guard at first, his hold loosening marginally, and it gave me enough leverage to twist in his hold, turn sharply, and bring my knee up to connect with his groin.
He grunted and brought his arm up. I knew he was about to shoot and saw it happening in slow motion. I ducked and put all my weight into his body, careening us to the wall. His back slammed into it, the air leaving him, my head ringing as his skull cracked into mine from the impact. I knew the only reason I’d caught him off guard was because he was drunk and he’d underestimated me.
We wrestled with the gun for only a second, the weapon between us, our eyes locked on each other’s. I saw his desperation, knew he’d kill me if it meant saving his own hide. If I had any sentimental value toward this man, it would have been crushed a long time ago. As it was, all I saw was my survival or him bringing me down to hell with him.
The gun exploded between us, going off, heat, smoke, and searing pain encompassing me in a physical and emotional way. We both froze, staring wide-eyed at the other, both hands on the weapon. I stumbled back and looked down, the barrel pointed at my father’s chest. Blood seeped through his shirt and spread outward so fast I took another step back. I slammed into a hard wall—Arlo’s chest. He gently took the gun from me, wrapped a protective arm around my waist, and then lifted his arm.
My father was shaking his head and holding his hands out, pleading, begging as he bled out, but it all fell on deaf ears and apathy. Arlo fired his gun and delivered a bullet right through one of his eyes. My father’s head cracked back on the wall before he slid down to the ground, blood smearing as he made his descent.
I didn’t know how long I stood there, but when Arlo wrapped me in his arms, my head over his heart, the tears came fast and strong. They weren’t ones of sadness or fear. They were ones of pure, utter relief.
I was finally free, even if I was covered in blood.
25
Galina
They were both dead, that chapter in my life done. No more running. No more hiding.
It was enough to have a tear unexpectedly slide down my cheek.
I wrapped my arms around my waist and stared out at the bright lights of Vegas. The sights and sounds, the bustle of life that had always been a constant in my world seemed miles away. A distant memory.
It was no longer my past or present. Because my future was so very different now.