Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 76881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
I slide in behind them so I can enjoy the rear view. I’m really fucking glad we aren’t turning her in. We almost walked away after meeting her in the diner. If it hadn’t been for worrying about the other hunters, we might’ve. The whole situation felt off from the start, but now I don’t have to feel fucking guilty about wondering what her ass would feel like in my hands.
Shit, it was hard to ignore the noises she was making when it was my turn to watch her last night. Either her dreams were bad, or really damn good.
Don’t know why I fucking read her to sleep. I’ve never done that for anyone before. It just felt right.
There’s a change in the constant noise of the road that triggers my instincts. I look over my shoulder and see several cars and motorcycles that look too coordinated to be a random burst of traffic. They’re using both lanes, blocking anyone else from passing. What the fuck?
I pull up next to Savage and point behind us. I can't hear what he says when he looks over, but everyone knows what the shape of “Fuck” looks like on someone’s lips. He tilts his head, ordering me back to run cover with Crank. At this point, we’ve worked together so long that we can almost read each other's minds.
I let myself fall back until I’m right next to Crank in the driver's seat. He's got the music on so fucking loud he hasn't noticed me, at least not until I slam my palm into the side of the door. He raises his eyebrows in question, and I point behind us.
He checks the mirrors and frowns. Whatever's coming, it’s gonna get real fucking messy.
Savage rides ahead, getting Paige to a safer position and leaving me and Crank behind to slow our tail.
We hold steady, just waiting to see what the gang behind us do. Are we being paranoid, or are they actually targeting us? And if they are, why? Is it Paige, or just assholes that saw the cuts and wanna make trouble?
The answer to the first question is clear enough when a gun goes off and the bullet passes by my head close enough that I can hear the whine over the rumble of our bikes and the roar of the wind. Fuck. Crank waves for me to get ahead of him, looking furious. It’s usually hard to get him to take anything seriously, but when shit starts to go down, he’s a fucking monster.
And shit’s about to go down.
I crank the throttle, putting the van between me and the tails. It’s not quite military grade, but it’s got enough armor to deal with standard issue ammo. I close the distance to Savage and mimic a gun with my hand. Paige’s eyes go wide with shock, but he just nods, cool as ice. And here we thought this was going to be an easy job. Motherfucker.
Savage veers for the exit coming up. We're sitting ducks on the highway. Crank follows, keeping the van between us and the bullets. At the speed we're going, gunshots are hard to make out, but if the muted thuds behind us is any indication, we'll be picking lead out of the van's back doors for weeks.
My teeth rattle as I take the exit early and hit the end of the rumble strip. Like a fucking earthquake. The ramp curves dangerously, and I have to lean low to make it. Savage and Paige are just to my left. She's clinging to him like a monkey, pale as a fucking ghost but following his lead. He's a damn good rider, but a lucky shot could take them both out.
Thank fuck the intersection’s clear when we hit the end of the ramp, because we aren’t stopping for the fucking light. Someone honks, but I don’t give a shit. A glance over my shoulder shows our tails heading down the highway ramp right behind us. At least they’ve been funneled into a single lane, though their motorcycles are pulling ahead of the group and heading right for us.
The first one to close in points something that looks high caliber in my direction. I draw and fire in one motion, before he gets his shot off. The rider flies backwards into the road, and his bike veers into the oncoming lane, jumping the guardrail when it hits. His body disappears under one of his buddies' cars.
Ouch. One down, but the rest are closing fast
Our van's not built for racing. The car that ran over the body doesn’t even slow down. It rides right up next to the van and bumps it. I fire a couple shots their way, but they don't back off. Then metal grinds as they push into the van again, harder this time. Fuck, they're trying to run him off the road.