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)
“Of course.”
Any hope I had of finding new information dries up faster than the Sahara. Judge Kincaid gives me a perfectly good and perfectly boring interview. Every time I drop a hint of the sort that threw Mullerby into a full fledged man-trum, Kincaid simply smiles and sails on past. He knows how to handle himself. And of course, there's always the possibility that he doesn't actually know anything after all. About ten minutes in, there's a buzz in his pocket. He's wearing a smartwatch, which he checks with a glance. A brief nod, as if to himself, and then he looks back to me.
“I'm afraid I have to cut this meeting a little short, but I hope you got something of value out of it. Unfortunately, a judge's work is never done.”
I try not to seem too dejected when I stop the recording app and put my phone away. If I'm going to get more information about what's going on, it's not going to be from him. But, I had to try. “Thank you for your time. I appreciate it. I'm sure you're very busy.”
He gives me that fake politician smile again as he holds the door. The one that keeps me reconsidering whether I can actually trust him or not. “No problem at all.”
The guys stand up as we come out. Reaper's eyes flit suspiciously between me and Judge Kincaid. “Everything good?”
I nod. “He was a perfect gentleman.” They don’t look convinced.
“Your sister is quite unharmed, I assure you.” Judge Kincaid chuckles softly. “Are you okay finding your own way out? The elevator is just down the hall and to the left.”
Needless to say, we make it to the elevator safely.
We don't really talk until we're getting on the bikes in the parking lot, not wanting to make anyone more suspicious than they already are seeing me walk in with the three of them. I sit behind Reaper, loving the feeling of his broad back in my arms and his narrow hips between my legs.
“How'd it really go, sis?” he asks as he starts his bike. The rumble immediately gives me all sorts of ideas that a girl shouldn’t have about her brother.
“Bum deal. If he knows anything, he didn't let on. I did everything but dangle Mullerby’s confession in front of him and he didn't even flinch. If he was lying, he was prepared.”
He shrugs. “He might just be what he says. Some old guy who felt bad that his colleague was an asshole. Want us to take you home, or…” He lets it hang, making it pretty obvious what he'd prefer.
“I wouldn’t mind stopping by the club.” I squeeze him harder. “If you don’t mind the company.”
I'm day-dreaming of what's going to be waiting for me once we get to the clubhouse, when a loud roar sounds behind us, drowning out even the roar of the motorcycles. My fingers tighten around Reaper as I look back over my shoulder. What the—
Three big SUV-like vehicles, but squatter and wider, have come up right behind us. They're jet black with tinted windows so it's impossible to see who's inside. From where I'm sitting, their grilles look huge, like locomotives are bearing down on us. At first I think it’s a convoy for some important person, but the way they’re spread out behind is a little too threatening to ignore. The guys signal to each other, communicating in some way that I don’t understand.
I squeeze my eyes shut and hold on as Reaper twists the throttle. His bike lurches forwards as the engine engages. Hair whips around my face while I dig my fingers so deeply into his jacket that I worry my nails are going to rip off. Falling off now would be almost certain death.
We squeeze between two cars, close enough that I could reach out and touch both of them at once. To our right, Mack cuts in just ahead of a delivery van, and then Scrapper appears from behind to overtake both of them. The van slams on its breaks and I have a flash of the driver flipping us off before we leave him far behind.
We weave through traffic like we have a death wish, but the cars chasing us aren't giving up. A loud metallic screech sounds behind us, and when I look behind, one of them has forced a car into the guardrail that separates us from the river below. The side of the car catches on something, and it's peeled open like a tin can, before it stops and the big car chasing us pushes by. These guys are insane.
Reaper finds a little more juice in the engine, opening the throttle all the way. I don't even want to know how fast we're going. Mack and Scrapper are holding pace, but it’s every man for themselves as we race through the blur of traffic. Another car tries to get out of the way and ends up shoved aside, in a symphony grinding metal. One of its tires explodes when it slams into the cement barrier on the inside of the highway and the hood starts smoking. The cars chasing us haven't even slowed down, though. No matter what Reaper does, they stick like glue.