Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
“Everleigh,” I said, biting out her name. “She was innocent. And now someone’s going to fucking kill her to cover their tracks.”
I wanted to say more.
I wanted to haul back, then punch him full-force in the face.
But I didn’t have time.
I had to find Everleigh.
I had to save her.
I charged past him.
“Wait,” Dallas called. “Get in,” he said, waving toward his car.
I wanted to tell him to fuck himself.
But the bike would give me away before a car would. And if he heard the bike, he might hurt her faster.
I said nothing, just rushed around his hood, climbed in, and waited for him to pull off.
Which he did in a rapid K-turn, and there was a moment where a memory came back to me. The two of us in this very position. Him much smaller. All limbs and acne-filled face. My whole body ramrod straight as he almost took out a mailbox when he backed up too far into the K-turn and jumped the curb.
I’d been the one to teach him to drive, refusing to let him out onto the road until he could not only do a three-point turn and parallel park, but do it quickly and precisely.
I’d taught him to do that perfect K-turn.
And for a moment, he was just my brother.
There was no bad blood.
Until, of course, I remembered why I was in his car.
I hit the button to lower the window as we pulled to the edge of the trailer park.
“Wait,” I yelled, hand slamming into his chest.
“What is it?”
“Don’t you hear that?” I asked.
Screaming.
There was screaming.
Dallas was reacting before I even had to tell him to, taking a turn toward the park as he put the pedal to the floor.
Behind us, two of the cruisers were following at the same breakneck pace.
Dallas slammed on the brake and rushed out of the car before I could see what he was seeing.
I was running when I saw her.
And that fuckhead behind her.
Pulling something from between his lips.
And plunging it into her arm.
Melissa’s words came back to me.
About Gray making it look like an overdose.
Then Erion’s played in my head too.
About ‘that shit’ that Gray was cutting his heroin with.
I didn’t have to ask to know what that ‘shit’ was.
It was the same ‘shit’ that was causing deadly overdoses all over the country.
“Put your fucking hands up!” Dallas roared as we ran.
I wasn’t focused on Gray.
I was looking at Everleigh as she slumped to the ground.
Rationally, I knew she wasn’t likely to die that quickly. But my heart seized in my chest as I pushed my legs faster, then dropped down in front of her.
“Get on the fucking ground!” Dallas yelled as I heard more footsteps approaching.
“Dallas!” I yelled as my arms went around Everleigh, yanking the needle out, then pulling her tightly to me. “You’re gonna be okay. I’m gonna fix this. Dallas!” I yelled again, hearing the desperation in my voice.
He must have heard it too, because he was right there, casting a shadow over us.
“He drugged her,” I said. “You have those overdose meds, right?” I asked, voice shaking as I looked up at him.
He gave me a tight nod, then ran off toward one of the police cruisers.
“It’s okay. Dallas has the stuff to reverse this,” I told her, stroking her hair, pressing my lips to her forehead. “You’re going to be okay.” My fingers went to her neck, feeling the thump of her pulse. Slow. Too slow.
Dallas was running back, fingers ripping at the plastic holding the reversal drugs. The kind that squirted up the nose.
“Here,” Dallas said, dropping down next to us. “Turn her,” he demanded, even as I was doing it. “Lay her as flat as possible.”
His hands were surprisingly steady as he stuck the applicator into her nose, and plunged the medicine in.
“Get her up,” Dallas demanded. “We have to get her to Dr. Price,” he said. “In the cruiser,” he added. “We have more of this,” he added as I gathered Everleigh and got to my feet.
By the time I got into the back of the cruiser, Dallas had gotten more of the nasal stuff, and had tossed them in the back with me before climbing into the front, and peeling off.
It wasn’t a long drive to Dr. Price’s, but I was terrified it would be too long.
“That shit works,” Dallas said, as if he could sense the anxiety swirling around me. “Ninety-four percent survival rate. And we got her early,” he said, taking a sharp turn at a high speed. “Keep an eye. If she’s not getting better, give her another in the other nostril.”
My fingers were on her neck, feeling her pulse. Still slow, but not as stalled as before.
Her breathing, though, seemed too shallow.
I grabbed one of the wrappers, ripping it open, and putting the applicator in her nose, then shooting more meds into her system as I said a silent prayer that it would do the trick, that she wouldn’t need more.