Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 34025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
I heard a crash somewhere far below, on the eastern side of the tower. The boom was louder than I anticipated, and I wondered if the radio receiver had exploded upon impact with the ground.
Good girl… Now just stay out of sight.
“What the fuck was that?” Zeb barked. Based on the volume of his voice, I determined that he was at least halfway up the tower stairs.
“It came from over there,” Martin yelled, sounding farther away.
“I’ll go check it out,” Duke said from far below. “You two check the tower, then come find me.”
I spotted Duke’s silhouette making its way across the clearing, gun in hand. I held my breath, praying he wouldn’t turn around and see Willow on the platform. He disappeared into the trees. Exhaling, I returned my attention to the creaking stairs.
“You really think we should keep pursuing these two?” Martin asked.
“Are you really asking me if I think we should keep looking for the people who can identify us? Fuck, man, we gave them our first names. Do you want to go to prison? Or worse?”
“Does Wyoming even have the death penalty?”
“It’s Wyoming. They probably just feed you to a bear.” Zeb was close now.
I flattened myself against the cabin’s exterior, holding my weapon with both hands like a bat.
“Just shut the hell up and get your head in the game—” Zeb flung open the hatch at the top of the stairs.
I didn’t hesitate to swing.
The blow sent him flying back down the steps. I was sure I’d done some serious damage, but there was no room for error; I had to be sure. I jogged after him, powered by a foreign, bloodthirsty feeling. Zeb tumbled down three flights of stairs, nearly crashing into Martin’s legs as he finally came to a stop.
“Holy shit,” Martin said as I came charging toward him with my weapon raised.
I took advantage of his shock, swinging the rod at his face.
Martin dodged at the last second, but I managed to hit his shoulder hard enough that he yelped. I leapt over Zeb’s body as Martin turned tail, fleeing down the stairs faster than a guy his size had any right to move. I made it two steps before a hand closed around my ankle. I fell, landing hard on the stairs, sending a shock of pain through my already sore ribs. But I didn’t let the pain stop me. I was rabid. Feral. The only thing that could put me down was a bullet to the brain. I prayed it wouldn’t come to that, for Willow’s sake.
I rolled over, using the rod and the stair railing to help me get back on my feet. Zeb’s face looked like something out of a funhouse mirror. Both the metal rod and the wooden stairs had done a bang-up job rearranging his pretty-boy features. His nose was crooked, his eyes practically swollen shut, and it appeared that most of his teeth were now scattered to the wind.
Blood poured from Zeb’s mouth as he screamed at me. The sound was barely human. My stomach churned. I hesitated for a second, letting my conscience weigh the potential damage that killing another man would leave on my soul. But the memory of Zeb shoving his cock down Willow’s throat was too fresh in my mind. I brought the rod down on his head twice, busting his skull open.
I licked my lips and tasted metal.
Now… Where the hell did Martin slink off to?
Dawn was fast approaching. I scanned the clearing and spotted Martin heading for the trees. I jogged down the stairs, grateful that my encounter with Zeb had only cost me a couple of minutes. As soon as my feet hit the ground, I broke into a run. For a guy who didn’t like climbing stairs, Martin had a ton of stamina. I chased him through the trees, dodging fallen limbs and underbrush, until we burst out into a grassy area. I didn’t notice the steaming hot spring until Martin finally came to a stop beside it.
When I reached him, he was bent over and wheezing, but I didn’t let his showing of weakness make me soft. I tackled the winded son of a bitch to the ground. He landed with a huff, and recovered surprisingly quick, slamming his elbow into my chest and knocking me off his back.
I lost the dowel rod somewhere in the dark, but that didn’t matter. I was ready to kill Martin with my bare hands if that’s what it took. Back on my feet, I aimed a kick at his head. His hands shot up to block me, knocking me off balance. It gave Martin just enough time pull himself together.
He took up a fighting position, raising his fists in front of his face and weaving back and forth.
“What?” Martin panted. “You thought Ox was the only one who knew how to fight? There’s a reason we’ve been able to do this year after year. We train for it.”