Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
I go still. “What did the fucker do with him?”
“You come, you can ask the fucker,” Creek tells me. “And then your wife will get a chance to bury her brother like he ought to be buried, instead of rotting out in the desert somewhere.”
Fuck. Fuck. Any other goddamn reason, I wouldn’t even be thinking twice. But she loved her brother so damn much. I can do this for her.
Then put a bullet in Victor’s head.
* * *
We leave long before dawn and Creek’s team catches me up to speed along the way. Victor’s cabin is in a box canyon with only one access road, which means getting in there without being seen will be near fucking impossible. But the canyon walls offer a vantage to scope out the place before we head in.
There’s snow everywhere, which means suiting up in some winter whites, and any other time I’d be loving this shit. But I just want to get back to Maxine. So when day breaks and Victor trudges out of his cabin toward his outhouse, if I hadn’t needed to ask about her brother, I’d have snagged one of the rifles and put that bullet in his head then and there.
He heads back to his cabin and we start scanning for snares and traps. Most likely he’s laid down some kind of defense.
Then we hunker down as his cabin door opens again and he comes out carrying a rifle. But he’s not alone. Another man is walking ahead of him, arm in a sling and Victor’s weapon trained on his back as they head for the outhouse.
“Holy fucking hell,” Creek breathes beside me.
Suddenly, I’m real goddamn glad I came. “Seems to me that Victor’s holding a federal agent captive and has a gun aimed at his back. We charge in there, you risk spooking that fucker and him pulling the trigger. Which means the best time to take Victor out is when your man’s in the shithouse and Victor’s alone outside. So give me that sniper rifle,” I tell Creek. “And I’ll get your man back for you right now.”
And get Maxine something even better.
40
Maxine
Everything hurts. But it’s a deep, muffled hurt…as if the pain’s there, but I’m floating right above it. Which probably means that I’m full of painkillers.
Which means I must be alive.
And Stone, too. My eyelashes feel as if they weigh a ton, and everything’s fuzzy and bright when I finally open my eyes. But he’s right there sitting beside me. And I don’t know if it’s a sob or a laugh that tries to rise up through my chest, but it hurts to do it. Hurts so much that everything around me goes even fuzzier, and I don’t see Stone move. But suddenly he’s leaning in closer and grinning his crooked grin at me, and I can feel his hand on mine.
“Merry Christmas, angel,” he says in a thick rasp, then brings my fingers to his lips. “It’s so fucking good to see you. No, don’t try to talk yet. Your throat’s probably going to feel a bit raw for a while.”
A bit? I show him my middle finger and he kisses it.
“Christmas?” I mouth the word.
“You’ve been out a week, but healing up good while you’ve been sleeping. And the doctor doesn’t think you’ll be up to doing much today, so the second you feel tired, tap out. Yeah?”
Might be soon. Already I’m feeling the weight of my eyelids again. But I don’t want to let go of him yet. I squeeze his hand.
“So I should tell you, I know you were worried about me missing another holiday with my family. But you made sure that didn’t happen by jumping in front of those bullets. And they’re all here now, celebrating how the magic of Christmas can bring a family together.”
Oh, even a little laugh hurts. And exhausts me. But Stone’s suddenly looking at me so seriously that I still can’t let go.
“But this family get-together is even bigger than we thought it would be, Maxine,” he says quietly. “We weren’t sure whether to tell you right away, because you’ll likely get real emotional, and you’re still in rough shape. But I figured this will do you more good than anything else in the world. Except you’ve got to promise to try to hold it together, all right? Because I’ve got you the best goddamn Christmas present ever…and I found it in a toilet.”
What? But Stone steps back, and someone’s behind him—sitting in a wheelchair, wearing a hospital gown and with his arm in a surgical cast.
And maybe I’m not alive, after all, because dead is the only way that Matt could be in front of me. Or maybe I’m just drugged and dreaming. But the tears spilling down my cheeks are hotter than dream tears should be, and although they blur everything in front of me, I can hear his familiar voice so clearly.