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’m doing the mental math on how many days I’ll have to stay here to earn enough before I run again when a hand covers my mouth, an arm goes around my throat, and someone yanks me backwards so hard I almost land right on my butt.
“Gotcha,” hisses a voice I wish I didn't recognize. The older guy from the table of wannabe hunters.
I try to stomp his shin but he dodges, and my attempt to scream goes nowhere, muffled behind his meaty hand. I flail in his grip, trying desperately to throw him off balance, but he’s too strong.
He yanks my back against his chest and holds me tight. “Easy, girl, easy. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
Are they here to bring me back? Or did I just have the bad luck to be in the wrong place at the wrong time? I’m not sure which is worse, and either way, if he thinks I’m cooperating, he’s got another think coming. Managing to catch his palm between my teeth, I bite with all the strength I have. He roars in pain and the coppery tang of blood floods my tongue. I don't care. I keep biting until he rips his hand away, leaving a little bit behind that I spit out with a horrified gag.
“You little bitch,” he snarls, distracted enough that finally one of my kicks actually lands.
I drive my heel into his instep, making him hiss. It would be more effective if I wasn’t wearing sneakers, but for just a moment his grip loosens, and I grab the opportunity to pull away before it’s too late. The door to the diner is right there, and I run for it.
But I forgot there are six of them. A fist to the back of my head makes the world go black so suddenly that I go sprawling on the broken asphalt. My head bounces painfully on the ground, and my ears fill with an ocean of buzzing. I scramble, fingernails digging into the pavement as my body keeps trying to crawl away on autopilot. They close in around me, laughing at my terror. I bit my lip when I fell, and the blood I taste isn’t just the old guy’s anymore.
The door opens. “Sarah!” yells Ash, holding a garbage bag in one hand.
“Help!” I scream, but it comes out in a pathetic garble.
“You haven’t seen shit, boy,” growls one of the men. “Drop the bag, go back in and forget about this bitch.” He pulls a gun and aims it straight at Ash.
I'm so screwed.
The garbage hits the ground and Ash flees back inside. I can’t even blame him. What would I have done with a gun pointed at me? Tears roll down my cheeks, but I’m too scared to make a noise.
“Stop dicking around, Cowen. Secure her before I fucking kill her,” growls the old guy, drawing air sharply through his teeth as he shakes his hand. “And slap some tape over her mouth. I'm gonna need a damn tetanus shot after that.”
“Keep fighting, you little bitch,” growls ribs-guy—Cowen?—as he pulls me off the ground with the help of one of the others. “Give me a reason to make this rough. It's only gonna make this sweeter. You’re lucky we’re supposed to bring you back alive, but now you’ve pissed off Eddy, and that’s bad news. For you.”
I whimper, hanging limp between my kidnappers. I should’ve used the money and kept running. Stopping was a mistake, and now I’m going to pay for it.
“This a private party?” The new voice is deep, a little raspy and unmistakably Savage.
Hope I shouldn't dare let myself feel rises in my chest.
Everyone turns, creating a gap for me to look through. All three bikers are here. Savage’s posture is loose, but his fists are clenched at his sides. Poe has a hand at his belt, and behind both of them, Crank looms with his massive arms crossed over his chest.
“Fuck off.” Cowen jerks his head and spits on the asphalt. “This is our business. We got here first.”
“Well, now we're making it our damn business,” Crank snarls from deep in his chest like an angry bear. “Let her go, and maybe we'll let you leave with your arms and legs attached.”
One of the others laughs. “Are we supposed to be scared? We outnumber you two to one. Stop embarrassing yourselves and get the fuck outta here. Do you really want to make us enemies?”
“Fuck off and let us work in peace.” Eddy finishes wrapping a rag around his hand as a makeshift bandage and faces the bikers menacingly, rolling his shoulders like he's warming for a fight. Three of his men line up with him, the threat obvious.
“I don't think you understand,” says Poe, his voice as dark as his eyes. “We aren’t asking. Hand her over.”