Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“I'm fine, I'm fine. They haven’t gotten to me yet, but there’s probably another way in.”
“We're coming as quick as we can. I'm not gonna be able to hear you while we're riding, but I'm leaving the phone on, okay? Turn your sound off so they don’t hear anything, and if the call drops, just stay put if you can. You’re doing so fucking good—just hang on for a little longer.” I jam the phone into the holder on my dash so I can glance down at the screen.
The three of us peel out of the compound with Scrapper in the lead as he follows his map. I wish to fuck I could hear her, but there’s no time to screw with the bluetooth and get the new phone connected to my bike. Whoever’s threatening Mila, they better hope she's in one piece when we get there. She might not be officially protected by the club, but the three of us are feeling real fucking invested right now.
The GPS takes us outta South Side, along the river and down past the university district. It's a little ways out, in a run down stretch of town, but the signal stays strong. I can’t hear shit, but she moves around a few times and each time I hold my breath until I see the shadow of her terrified face come back.
When we get there, we find a darkened commercial building, just like she described. We come around back back, and there’s a door busted open.
Fuck.
I pick up my phone. The call's still active, so I whisper into it, “We're here.”
She nods. There's a soft shuffling sound, and some thumping noises. Movement. Hopefully, she's still hidden.
Mack pushes the door open. It creaks. Good. Maybe it'll take attention away from wherever Mila's hiding. If those assholes want someone to fuck around with, the three of us are right here.
Inside is dark except for a hint of light coming through long, horizontal windows near the high ceiling. It’s enough to see by, but barely. Most of the room and floor is hidden in pitch blackness. With a nod to each other, we spread out to make less of a target of ourselves.
Scrapper slips brass knuckles onto his right hand and leaves his left hanging free near his piece. Mack and I draw iron. Hand to hand has its place, and it makes less noise, but I’m not taking a fucking chance in here. This isn’t a benefit of the doubt situation.
Mack holds up a fist to get our attention, he taps his ear, then points. Sound. Someone or something's moving that way. We sneak deeper into the darkness, following his lead. A sudden, startled gasp comes through my phone and from up ahead at the same time.
“No!” Mila shrieks.
“Gotcha,” some asshole declares, not twenty feet ahead. He laughs, a grating sound that makes me clench my teeth.
We move fast and silent in the darkness, but more worried about getting to her in time. Ahead, a large figure wrestles with a much smaller one, trying to get it under control. That is until Mack slams a gun into the side of his fucking head.
“Motherfucker!” he snaps, whirling around.
Mila screams as he drops her, but I’m there to catch her as she falls, pulling her into my arms.
As a reward, I get an elbow to the face.
“It's Reaper,” I hiss, biting down the pain.
“Oh God, I'm sorry. I—”
“Doesn't matter. We're getting the fuck out.”
The lights come on, all at once blinding us all momentarily.
“Over here!” another man shouts.
Shit. “How many, Mila?”
“Fo—four, I think!”
Mack has one, and two are coming right for us. Scrapper moves to my back and we put Mila between us. The two attackers are on me, fast. The first one throws a punch that's quicker than I expect. There’s no time to completely avoid it, so I angle myself to let it glance off my shoulder as I ram my knee into his gut. With a pained grunt, he goes down like a sack of fucking potatoes.
I get a microsecond to gloat, before the second guy knocks me sideways into some kinda machinery. Scrapper’s on him before he has a chance to follow up. With Mila staring wide-eyed at the carnage around her, Scrapper rams the guy headfirst into a cement support column so hard I swear I hear his skull crack. The fucker drops and doesn't even try to get up.
“Mack?”
“Fine! How ‘bout you stay right there,” Mack growls. He's got the first guy’s neck locked under his arm, choking him out while aiming his piece at the fourth who is walking slowly towards us. “You can take the chance, but you wouldn't be the first piece of shit I put in the ground.”
The fucker stops and puts his hands up, his beady eyes focused on the barrel of Mack's gun.