Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
“Getting knocked out half a dozen feet away.”
“I got some leads,” he said.
“Give me an address,” I demanded.
There was a pause.
“A, they have Shale,” I reminded him, not caring how much desperation was slipping into my voice. I was desperate. He had a woman. He understood.
A sighed, then rattled an address as I rushed through my loft to grab some weapons before flying out of the building.
I hung up as I jumped in the SUV.
It wasn’t until I heard the passenger door slam that I realized Barry had been right behind me.
“Absolutely fucking not. Get out.”
“You’re wasting time,” Barry said as he strapped his belt.
Damn him, he was right.
I floored it even as some voice in my head told me that having someone else I needed to look out for was going to make me slower, was going to put Shale at risk.
“You keep your ass in the fucking car when we get there,” I demanded. “Don’t touch that,” I snapped as he reached for the gun in the cup holder.
It was only when he expertly loaded the magazine into it that I stopped objecting.
“The fuck?” I asked, gaze sliding in his direction.
“My grandpa was a gun fanatic,” he admitted, shrugging. “I prefer video game guns, but I guess you don’t forget this kind of thing,” he said, setting the gun muzzle down in the cup holder. “What are you going to do?”
“Save Shale,” I said. There was simply no other choice.
“But you’re outnumbered.”
“So, I’ll have to be smarter than them.”
“Maybe you can call your biker friends,” he suggested.
“There’s no time,” I told him, even as I saw the location coming into view.
The closeness was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because I could get to her relatively quickly. A curse because they had her there longer, and could be doing fuck-knew what to her.
“This place is big,” Barry said as he looked at the building that had once been an above-ground pool store.
“But open,” I said, remembering having been in it as a kid once when my old man had been looking to buy my ma a gazebo so she would sit outside while she worked without complaining about the glare on her laptop.
It had been one big showroom with a glass sunroom to the side and the back room. That was it. Not a lot of places for people to lie in wait.
But also not a lot of places to hide from gunfire.
“Who the fuck is this?” I hissed as I parked the SUV and saw someone pulling up behind.
“Jackson,” Barry said.
“What?” I asked, head whipping over. “How?”
“I texted him.”
“You have Jackson’s… never mind,” I said, seeing Jackson getting out of his sports car in a suit, and making his way to the passenger door.
“You were going to do this alone? You out of your fucking mind?” he asked.
“Who is…” I started as another truck pulled up, parking behind Jackson. I didn’t have to ask who it was. I knew that truck. It belonged to my old man.
“Ooh,” Barry said, eyes widening as he looked in the rearview and saw my father approaching. “Is that Daddy Boss Man?” he asked.
“Christ,” I hissed as my father, a man who went by the name of s, yanked open the other passenger door and climbed in.
“Having fun without me?” he asked, going for light but I could see the tension in his jaw.
“Let me guess,” I said, gaze moving over the roofs of nearby buildings. “Uncle Johnnie is up there somewhere?” I asked.
Back in the day, my father’s crew consisted of Jackson’s dad, the former gang leader, and Johnny Walker Allen who went by the name of Shooter, because of his sharpshooting skills. Literally a killer for hire, he’d been retired for a while now. Except, of course, when it involved his extended family.
“If he’s not already, he will be in five minutes,” my father said. “Who is this?” he asked, nodding toward Barry’s seat.
“I’m Barry, ah, sir,” Barry said, making Jackson snort a little.
“He’s… a friend,” I said, seeing the way Barry brightened at hearing that. “He’s staying in the car,” I added.
“I can keep the engine running for a quick getaway,” he said, nodding.
“Listen, and this is important, you do not sit in the fucking driver’s seat,” I said. “I’m driving.”
I’d once watched Barry pull away from my curb and into traffic. He’d done it at a grandpa’s pace.
“Okay.”
“Do we have a plan?” my old man asked.
“Go in, save the girl,” I said. Then added, “The usual shit.” Because, back in the day, that was “the usual shit” when it came to them finding their women.
“Been a while since we saved the girl,” my father admitted. “Can’t imagine it’s changed much. How you planning on getting in without being seen?”
I chewed the inside of my cheek for a second. “Think Uncle Johnnie might create a little distraction?” I asked.