Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 156945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
The woman with braids insistently grabbed Gray’s shadowy hand and turned it in her fingers. “I heard you were in an accident. Did your hand turn like this from frostbite? Were you too sick to come here?”
Gray stopped breathing, suddenly lying in the snow, his legs in pieces, his back in so much pain he wasn’t able to move, hand resting in the ice-cold stream. How long had Mike clung to hope that he’d be rescued on time before he died?
“I—” Was Mike a regular here? How did he not know this?
The woman’s eyes glistened. “It’s Gina. Did you forget my name, or you’re just not up for it again? You lying fucker. If you don’t want to fuck again, just say so!” She squeezed his hand more tightly. “Are you still in that biker club?”
The long, thin fingers were like the touch of Death himself, and his brain instantly returned to Shadow, who would feel someone else’s hand touching Gray. He pulled away, increasingly uncomfortable. “Who were you to Mike?”
She leaned back. “You don’t remember or are you fucking with me?”
“No,” Gray said, his feet itching to leave. But how could he when Shadow was still out there somewhere?
“Gina! Can I get a drink already?” A man yelled from a few tables away in a heavy Russian accent.
“I’ll be right back, okay? Don’t go anywhere, or I’m gonna stab you in the dick with my stiletto,” Gina said to Gray before walking off to the other patron, but all the hairs on Gray’s arms bristled when he watched them talk and glance his way.
Shit. Shit. Fuck.
His mind raced when he saw the man leave the drink he’d been asking for in favor of making a call, but there was nothing he could do. The rumor already spread, and he could not leave or make precautions when Shadow’s body was right here, unable to defend itself.
In desperation, he scratched his black forearm, hoping Shadow would sense the silent call for help wherever he was.
“I said stay back!” The Russian said so loudly his voice overpowered the music, and shoved Gina aside before rushing toward Gray with a long blade glinting in his hand. “You’ve got a death wish like your brother? That shipment is staying here, you have no idea who you’re messing with. Both of you, up!”
The music died mid-song just in time for Gray to hear the click of a gun on the other side of the stage. The dancer shrieked and slid off the stage, running away so fast she must have miscalculated the height of her heels and dropped to the floor. Every single person around him stood, as if they had been commanded to do so, but while some rushed for the door, there were others who not only stayed but also deliberately moved to surround him.
Gray’s thoughts were on a carousel that wouldn’t stop gaining speed until he couldn’t see straight anymore. He stood, hand hovering close to where he’d hidden his gun in the front pocket of his hoodie, but if he took the risk to draw it, Shadow might end up hurt.
This kind of work—infiltration rather than watching his mark at a distance—was not in his nature. He should have drawn his weapon long ago, when he still had the chance to be discreet about it. He’d been too fucking slow.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, as droplets of sweat rolled down his spine. Shadow’s lifeless body was a constant presence in the corner of his eye, and if he was to give his lover more time, playing dumb might prove as the most effective strategy.
But he wasn’t the only one to notice Shadow’s passive behavior. The corpulent man who sat on the other side of the stage pointed his gun at Shadow’s head and moved around the stage, never once letting his gaze stray from his mark. “Do you hear me, motherfucker? Get up!”
Gray didn’t expect the deafening bang that resonated in his ears, but despite his instinct screaming duck, he threw himself on top of Shadow, and they both rolled to the floor. He managed to soften the drop of Shadow’s head with his hand, and reached for his gun within split seconds, ignoring the sticky dampness of the carpet licking his elbow. From down here, the pretense of glamour the bar tried to exude was unmasked by the bits of trash, crumbs of breadsticks, cigarette butts, and empty containers littering the floor.
Above Gray, the Russian slashed through empty air, but when Gray spotted movement close behind him, he instinctively rolled on top of Shadow’s body before shooting at the leg that emerged from beyond the stage. The bullet hit the wall, but the potential shooter slipped trying to move away, and fell with a thud and a stream of curse words spluttering from his mouth. Gray was relieved that one of his opponents was out of the game for a few seconds, but before he could point his firearm the other way, someone’s shadow made him rapidly change position.