Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 67324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
“Wrong again. Because of Alarick’s little rat, I’ve been able to plant enough things to make it look like the club are the people behind my operation. I’ve made it all look like they’re helping me, and have been all along. It’s all the cops need to take that entire club down. It’s not like they haven’t been looking for a reason. Sad, really. If only they’d minded their own business . . .”
This is a nightmare.
A bad dream.
“The cops won’t help you . . . they won’t . . .”
“They will, because Bennett wasn’t the only person I had on my side. I’ve organized them to go there, and they’re going to find everything they need. How do you think it’ll look when they see bikers with a dead body of a police officer? There’s no getting away with it.”
“They’ll figure it out; they’ll figure out it was you all along!” I snarl, angrily.
He shrugs. “Perhaps, but by the time they do, I promise you they won’t find me. They will not be able to track me down, and besides, your little bikers will be all locked up with nowhere to go. It’s the perfect plan. Nobody is going to believe a biker gang is innocent. Nobody.”
I feel sick, because he’s right.
Who is going to believe a biker club wouldn’t have something to do with an operation like this? It’s dangerous, it’s illegal, and they’re known for dealing with the dangerous and the illegal.
What have I done?
How did we not see this coming?
I can’t warn Alarick, because Dax has my phone. He has it, and he’s not going to give it to me. But if I don’t warn them, then they’re going to be taken from me—all of them. They’re going to get locked up and with Dax’s power, they’re going to stay locked up. I can’t do that to them. No. I have to think.
Think, Waverly.
I glance around the car, trying not to make it too obvious. There has to be something, something I can use to hurt Dax. Something I can use to just get out of here. Once I’m out, I’ll run and get help. I’ll call Alarick. I’ll do something. I see my purse on the ground in the backseat, there’s no way I’ll get to that. I focus on the front area, and other than a few random items, there’s not much I can use to hurt him.
I’m going to have to use my own force.
My hands are bound.
But I’m flexible as fuck.
And this piece of shit isn’t going to get away with this.
I act quickly without too much thought. I raise my elbow, intertwine my bound fingers, and then I slam my elbow into Dax’s temple. With a shocked gasp, he swerves the car. I do it again, harder this time. With a pained bellow, he tries to correct the car while reaching over and grabbing my hair. He takes a fistful of it and slams my head into the dash. I hit it with such force, I feel a split in my head that has it spinning.
I don’t let it stop me.
I shift all my weight to the side, ripping my hair from his grips - chunks of it come out. I lean my back against the window and I use my foot to slam his head against the glass. I kick him so hard it cracks and blood spurts out. With a gasp of pain, he shakes his head, dazed.
I kick him again.
The car skids off the road and down a ditch, where it comes to a screeching halt and we’re both slammed forward.
I’m grateful we didn’t hit a tree.
I move as fast as I can while he’s dazed and reach over the back with both hands, grabbing my purse. Then I turn, undo the door and kick it open before launching out. I know I’m not going to get far, I kicked him hard—hard enough to probably cause some serious damage, but not enough to stop him from coming after me. He’s probably going to shoot me, but if I can save that club, I’m going to.
I pull out the phone and dial Alarick’s number, my hands shaking, blood dripping from my head onto the phone.
“Waverly?”
“Get out,” I cry, hearing the car door open as Dax launches out. “Get out now. It’s a trap, Alarick. The cops are coming. He’s been playing us all along. Get out.”
I hang up the phone and shove it back into my purse just as Dax roars. “Don’t fuckin’ move.”
I hope he didn’t see that I made a call.
I’m on my knees, crouched down over my purse, and I decide to put the phone in my hands so it looks like I’m about to use it. I turn slowly, phone in hand, and look at him.