Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Then I saw to my horror that Colt wasn’t going limp under Corrigan’s punches. He was soaking them up, snarling up at the Irishman. How? He still had hold of his gun and now he was trying to force it down to point at Corrigan’s head, the sinews in his forearms standing out like cords. How is he—Oh God, they must have given him the adrenaline! It would likely kill him, given his injuries. But until then, he was like some barbarian in a Berserker rage, his strength dialed up to eleven.
As I watched, the gun started to inch downwards towards Corrigan’s head. Corrigan was grunting, wide-eyed with disbelief at Colt’s strength. He had to stop punching and use both hands and even then, the gun kept moving.
I have to help him! I was lying on my side and I tried to worm my way towards them. And then the pain hit.
The shock had been tempering it. Now it blossomed out from the wound, a slow-motion explosion that felt like it was ripping me apart. I rolled onto my back, sobbing, and clasped my hands to my chest. When I felt the hot stickiness of blood, I felt sick. The pain kept coming, doubling and then trebling. It felt as if someone had shoved a red-hot spear of iron right through me and left it there, my body slow burning and blackening as the heat spread through me.
Colt was winning. His unnatural strength was forcing the gun down, a millimeter at the time. Its barrel was twitching and sometimes the twitch took it almost to Corrigan’s forehead. No!
Through a haze of tears, I reached out towards him with one bloodied hand.
Corrigan’s eyes caught the movement and he looked at me.
And then he got mad.
I thought he’d been angry before, when he ran at Colt. But this was different. Deeper. Darker. Vengeful.
The realization felt like my body had been slid into black, icy water. He thinks I’m going to die.
Corrigan roared, a wordless battle cry, and shoved Colt’s arms and the gun they held to the ground. I heard a bone break. And then he slammed a fist across Colt’s face and Colt lay still.
Corrigan hurled the gun off into the snow and ran to me, falling to his knees by my side. The rage was turning to fear, now, his face pale with it. “Beckett?” He grabbed my hand. God, he was so warm... or was I cold?
He put his hands on my wound. The pain seemed to be receding. I felt my head loll and he took my chin in his hand and made me look at him. “No!” He used that voice, but it was thick with emotion, the Irish heavy in it. “No, you stay with me!”
I tried to speak, but it was so hard.... I tasted blood. There suddenly seemed to be blood everywhere: leaking hotly into the snow beneath me and pulsing from the wound under his hands. The edges of my vision went dark.
“No!” There were tears in his eyes and my heart wrenched. Jesus, for him this was Chrissy all over again. “You’re going to be okay, Beckett,” he snapped, pressing on the wound. “You’re going to be okay!”
I put all the strength in my body into squeezing his hand. “I am,” I rasped with unshakable certainty. “You’re going to save me.”
66
Dominic
HER EYES CLOSED. No. Jesus no….
I scooped her up in my arms and for a second, I just knelt there. She felt so light, so fragile, like a bird shot out of the sky. How could he do this to her? How could anyone do this to Beckett?
Then I jumped to my feet. Her heart was still beating. There was still hope. I looked desperately around. I couldn’t save her there. I had no equipment and no way to call for help. My only chance was to get her to the ER.
I carried her to the pickup and lay her on the back seat, then jumped into the driver’s seat. We’d left the engine running. My foot twitched towards the gas—
I stopped as I saw Colt’s body in the rear view mirror. Fuck!
I couldn’t leave him there. If he woke, he was crazy enough to set off the bomb. We’d all die. But Beckett needed help now—
Cursing, I jumped out, picked up Colt’s limp body and heaved him into the back of the pickup. Then I jumped back in and floored the gas.
I took the snow-covered road at sixty and didn’t slow down when I hit town. But it still wasn’t fast enough. I could see her growing paler each time I glanced in the mirror. I could feel the life slipping out of her. I tried talking to her, even yelling at her, but she wouldn’t wake up. I pushed the gas even harder. Come on!