Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 125982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Color was returning to his face and his grimace was loosening. He wasn’t totally Tristan yet but he looked like he could be on his way. A glimmer of hope burst forward in her chest. She gasped as he collapsed and because he still had a hold of her, she fell with him.
He was out cold.
Did I break through or did the tranquilizer finally kick in? What do I do what do I do what do I do?
Should she run back into the panic room? It was still disengaged so the door should be unlocked. She checked it. It was unlocked.
Should she wait in there until he woke up to see if he was past it or if it’d happen all over again?
What? What?
She caught sight of Sam. What would happen when Sam woke up? Would he attack her, too? She wouldn’t be able to push nice thoughts into his head and hope it’d bring the colour back to his face. If the nice thoughts even worked. It really could’ve just been the tranquilizer.
She yanked her pants back up, grabbed the tranquilizer gun from the floor and squeezed the trigger, shooting another small dart into Sam’s leg. Then she pointed it at Tristan. Would another dart keep him down longer or would it be lethal? Sam had shot him three times already.
She stared at him, pointing the gun, and trembling all over. He just looked like he was sleeping. Sleeping with blood all over his chin on the floor inside a metal cage in a mess of blood all over the rug. Now that he was down she should have a bit of time --- she hoped, before he woke up. She sobbed, looking at his gorgeous face and made her decision. She touched her lips to his forehead. He was warm.
“I’m sorry but I have to go,” she whispered softly and touched the cleft on his chin with her fingertips.
She dropped the gun, ran down the stairs, picked up his keys from the table by the door and grabbed her running shoes from near the doorway. She ran out the door carrying them, and put them on while waiting for the elevator, which seemed like it took a dog’s age to arrive.
Three and a half minutes later she was in the back seat of Tristan’s SUV, looking over into the trunk and pulling the zipper open on a black and grey Puma gym bag. In that duffle bag were two big stacks of cash wrapped with elastic bands. One stack was Canadian money and the other was American. There was also a bundle of travellers’ cheques, two changes of clothes for each of them, and both of their passports as well as Kyla’s purse. Anguish sliced through her heart and her veins as she got into the driver’s seat, turned the ignition, and decided to head for the airport.
To be continued…