Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 117379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
“The Armory is the safest place I can think of right now,” he said. “This isn’t the army we’re up against. It’s one or two shooters, and that place was built to withstand a hell of a lot worse. Your sister is already there, and I guess most of the other women are, too. Fuck of a way to start the holiday.”
I reached down and grabbed my purse, pulling out my little black semiautomatic. I checked the magazine before setting it in my lap.
Then I glanced back over at Hunter. To my surprise, he was smiling.
“Best fuckin’ old lady ever,” he muttered, shaking his head.
“No, that was my mom.”
“Love you, babe.”
“I love you, too.”
Guess we didn’t need another conversation topic after all.
Things fell to shit about three miles after we turned off the main highway headed north. The sun had just set, and the frozen rain had covered everything, leaving a sheen of ice across the road. God, I hated driving on ice.
I knew there were probably guys stationed at the turnoff to the Armory, but I didn’t see any of them. I’d texted Dad with our ETA and Hunter’s license plate number, so hopefully they were just letting us pass through because they recognized us. I knew they’d call it in, though, which meant we’d hit the point of no return.
“Slide your seat forward, Em,” Hunter said as we started up the winding road. I slid forward, and then he reached around behind my seat. I heard the sound of Velcro tearing open, and then I felt his hand against my back, inside the cushions.
He pulled out a large handgun.
“Hold this for a sec,” he said. Then he reached over again and dug around some more, this time bringing up two spare magazines.
“Okay, you’re good to scoot back. Take a look for me?”
I dropped the magazine and examined it. Fully loaded, all good. I popped it back in and chambered a round. He tucked it down between the seats after I handed it to him.
“You know, Dad would never trust me to check his gun.”
“He sees you as a little girl,” Hunter replied, his eyes darting back and forth across the road. “I see you as a competent adult, one I trust. Big difference. Something feels off here.”
I shivered, thinking he was right. The weather was forcing us to drive way too slow. Fucking ice.
Suddenly there was a loud bang and the truck careened to the right.
“Crap,” Hunter grunted, fighting the wheel as the truck lurched to the side. At first I thought we’d just blown a tire. Never a good thing, but not the end of the world. Then there was another loud bang, and the front end collapsed. Two tires out, I realized. We slid abruptly toward the edge of the road, Hunter cursing steadily, but there was just too much ice. I braced myself as the truck skidded off the embankment, rolling down the side of the hill and smashing into a tree. Air bags exploded as the truck flipped over onto its side, passenger window pointing toward the sky.
Sudden horrible silence filled the cab.
It all happened so fucking fast. I couldn’t quite breathe and my heart was exploding with adrenaline.
“Shit,” I muttered, pushing the bag away from my face. God, something smelled horrible. Like burning. “What happened?”
Hunter didn’t answer. I blinked, trying to get my bearings. My eyes were watering and I couldn’t quite see. The seat belt held me suspended on my side, the position painfully uncomfortable. I reached up and rubbed my eyes, which didn’t help, and realized that the air itself was hurting my lungs.
Flopping my hand around, I found the window control and pushed it, the battery miraculously still working. The window rolled down into the door and a rush of cold air came in. I took a deep breath. Thank God, I could breathe again. Unfortunately, with the fresh air came cold, freezing rain.
“Hunter?” I whispered. Nothing. I looked down at him and gasped. A shattered tree stump had smashed up through the driver-side window, the remains splintered into sharp spikes of wood. It was less than an inch from the front of Hunter’s face, and I saw blood trickling out of his nose. Branches and pine needles were everywhere, so many I could hardly see him. They filled his entire half of the cab.
“Babe?” I asked slowly. I reached down and touched his shoulder. He shifted his head and moaned. Alive. Thank God, because if that thing had been one inch closer, it would’ve gone right through his skull. I reached down and felt his neck, finding a strong pulse. Okay.
Now what?
I shook my own head, forcing myself to focus. I needed to call for help, but my purse had gone flying. Where the hell was my phone? I couldn’t see it anywhere, and I’d smashed his last night. Damn it. That’s what I got for having a temper tantrum. Then I spotted my purse down in the footwell.