Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
There are four cars parked outside some kind of outhouse off to the side of the warehouse. The warehouse is dark, but yellow lights blare from the one window of the outhouse and from under the door.
I leap from the car, thinking of my woman alone with…
With whom?
With dead men, if they’ve hurt her.
I spring right for the door. Maybe it’s not the smartest move. I should be quiet and work out what’s going on first, but every second I delay is another second something terrible could be happening to my woman.
Raising my foot, I kick with all my power. The door crashes as it snaps open, the hinges breaking.
My body is flooded with protective fire. Time slows as I look around the small room and at my woman passed out on a grimy mattress. A man is leaning over her, his hands moving toward her body. She’s still wearing her tights. He’s about to remove them. The purpose is obvious.
Three more men have gathered around. Each of them is tall and swollen with steroids. I know the look from so many years of practicing as a doctor in family practice, dealing with all kinds of conditions.
The man closest to me turns. He’s wearing a leather vest over a green shirt. His hair is greasy and red and long, and when I punch him in the nose with my fist, bright red blood gushes down his lip.
He falls back, yelling, as two men leap at me. I don’t have time to take in their details, only the motion of their bodies. They come at me with the blind fury of startled animals, fists waving wildly.
One fist lands a blow across my mouth, making my jaw feel like it wobbles, but then I spin away and headbutt my attacker so hard he flies off his feet. I grab the arm of the other man as he strikes me, yanking him hard so he hurtles into the opposite wall, his head slapping off the wood. He collapses. Then the two men are on me—the redhead and the other. I kick one so hard in the leg I hear something snap, causing him to fall and scream, clawing at his shin.
I grab the other by the head, my big hands squeezing tight as I spin him around and force him down against my knee. The fourth man tries to run out a back door.
I catch a glimpse of my woman on the mattress, moaning softly, and that sends more rage surging through me, speeding across my system like a car across a racetrack.
Leaping across the room, I grab the back of his neck and drag him back, throwing him to the ground and leaping on top of him, hammering him in the face several times, then standing, looking at the four of them.
The redhead is crawling across the room to a wooden box. I stalk over to it, kick off the lid, and pick up the pistol inside.
“Is this what you wanted?” I roar, aiming the gun at his head. “Nobody touches my woman. Nobody thinks about touching her. I’ll execute every single one of you.”
Switching my aim between them, I back up slowly toward Harper.
All of them are battered and broken, unable to stand, nursing their injuries.
Kneeling carefully—they could be faking—I scoop my arm under Harper and lift her gently, cradling her to my chest as I walk toward the exit. I aim the gun the entire time, fully prepared to kill any or all these bastards, if that’s what it takes.
They didn’t have time to do what they wanted, but it doesn’t matter. They tried. They were going to, and that’s enough.
“Nobody leaves,” I snarl, kicking the door open. “Out. All of you. You’re going to wait for the police.”
When they don’t move, I give one of them a sharp kick. That gets them all going.
As the sirens finally reach us, they crawl into the cold night air, kneeling against the wall.
“They’re keeping her for observation,” Adam tells me when I return from giving my statement to the cops. “They didn’t… get what they wanted from her. They didn’t do that, but the doctors want to make sure the drug doesn’t mess with her system.”
I nod, still feeling amped-up, running a hand through my hair.
“What did the cops say?” Adam asks.
“They’ve been looking for these creeps, apparently,” I say. “It’s a sick game they play. They take turns. Spiking women at clubs and then taking them there.”
“Jesus.”
“Is she awake?” I ask.
“She’s still groggy. They say she’s not ready for visitors yet.”
Adam and I sit together in the cold, clinical atmosphere of the hospital.
“I was at Eva’s grave,” Adam whispers. “I didn’t have my phone with me. Her other contacts were Eva and Tiffany. Tiffany was still in the club, in no state to save her… and Eva obviously couldn’t help. Christ, Bryson, if you hadn’t been here…”