Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
“Yeah,” I grunt. “I do. Freya.”
“Yes?”
“Go and get your friend. We’re leaving now.”
The man stares up at me, eyes wide as though he’s waiting for the final bullet.
“You’re a lucky bastard,” I tell him. “Unless….”
Reaching down, I grab onto his shirt.
“Kevlar,” I say, laughing darkly. “Smart.”
I would’ve done the same if it wouldn’t draw attention to me.
“Why the cop get up?” I ask.
The man frowns, and I have my answer. It’s not a getup.
“I need to tie you up. Are you going to try anything stupid?”
“No,” the man says quickly.
Reaching into my back pocket, I take out my zip ties.
I flip the man over and then quickly secure his wrists. When I turn, I find Freya standing in the doorway, with her mother and Julie standing behind her.
They all seem scared and shell-shocked in the way armed violence turns civilians, but Julie seems the most preoccupied.
Without saying anything else, I stride into the hallway, then gesture for them to stop.
“Wait here until I’ve checked the car.”
As I walk over to the car, I keep my gun at my side, scanning the street.
The police car speeds away from the neighborhood, lights flashing as they screech down the road.
People are standing on their front lawns, cell phones in hand, looking around in that dazed way civilians get.
They’re probably wondering why the cops are leaving, with no clue they’re the ones who tried to kill us.
After giving the car a quick once over, I return to the house, waving at the women. They stand huddled in the hallway.
Freya has her hands across her middle, her eyes red pits, and her hair messy from the mayhem. It takes everything I have not to walk over, stroke my hand through her hair, and gently guide my fingers through her brown locks.
In a different world, one where we’re not being chased.
“Let’s go.” I nod outside. “And be quick.”
“Were they real police?” Freya’s mother asks, whose name I learn is Annabelle.
“Yeah, they were. We need to get out of here.”
We all rush out to the car. Freya clutches her friend’s arm. Julie seems the most shaken by the whole thing, trembling as Freya guides her to the back seat.
All three of them sit in the back, Annabelle the last to enter.
At first, I want to tell Freya to sit up here with me. But, even if I know it would be dangerous, considering how badly I need to focus, even if I know it would be almost impossible to resist her thick legs, gorgeous smile, and scent, which triggers something inside of me, I want her here.
But this is for the best. It makes focusing easier.
I drive out of the city, wincing as my shoulder pulses. But the bleeding has stopped now. With everything that’s happened, nobody has noticed.
I feel my shirt sticking to it, but it’s not deep.
“Where are we going?” Annabelle asks softly.
“Somewhere safe,” I tell her. “I’ve got a safe house outside the city. We can regroup there and….”
My cell phone rings, playing the simple multi-beep alert that sounds when Kenny calls.
“I have to take this,” I say, answering quickly and placing the phone on speaker.
“Kenny, you’re on speaker with Freya, her friend, and her mother.”
“Okay,” Kenny says slowly, probably piecing things together himself. “I sent some of the men from our east-coast division out to your safe house.”
I feel a wrenching in my gut. I start grinding my teeth without really meaning to, more as a way to relieve some of the tension.
My temples are pulsing, the sensation cutting right through me.
“What happened?” I ask.
“My men are fine, but the safe house is a wreck.”
“Mr. Red’s been following me,” I mutter.
“Maybe. But it’s worse. We’ve noticed suspicious activity around our safe houses too. Yasmin’s scared, Felix.”
She should be, I think, but keep it to myself.
“What sort of activity?”
“Armed men making passes, people scoping it out. We can handle it, but I think Yasmin would feel safer with you.”
“Where is she now?” I ask.
“With Felicia. Do you want to speak with her?”
I sigh. “No, don’t disturb them. Whether or not she wants to come is not really the point. All that matters is if she’s safe.”
“That’s the thing,” Kenny says. “I think she’d be safer at the place. Clearly, you all would too. We can fortify, hunker down, and find out what’s going on.”
“If that’s your professional opinion, we’ll meet there. Are you going to drive?”
“Yeah. And I’ll bring some of my men,” Kenny says. “Trust me, brother, we’ll figure this out.”
“Okay. See you soon.”
We hang up, and then I pull up at the side of the road and send Kenny a text. An idea occurs to me.
I take the next turn and guide the car in the opposite direction.
“Where’s the place?” Freya asks softly.
I glance into the rearview, my heart thudding heavier when I see the pain in her features and tightness and the quiver in her voice.