Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
“I’m gonna pull in the driveway and keep my head down as I walk to the door. Go around back–they were in the kitchen.”
Kyle nodded and unholstered his gun again. “Levi’s on his way, Wait for backup.”
I gritted my teeth. We should wait for Levi. He was a shifter, and he had a gun. Plus, he wasn’t Riley’s dad. But it had already been too long since Riley called.
My wolf wouldn’t wait another minute.
I shook my head. “No. You’re the backup. I’ve already waited too long. I’m going in.”
I climbed behind the wheel of the sheriff’s car and started it up. I nearly broke the gear stick shifting it into drive. My canines had descended despite my efforts not to shift and punctured my lip.
“Hang on. I’m coming, Riley,” I muttered. “And I’m going to tear that guy to shreds when I get there.”
31
RILEY
It felt like forever with me trapped in the kitchen with a killer.
He’d ordered me to sit at the kitchen table, so I hadn’t had a chance to sneak a knife from the drawer. I was desperately trying to come up with a plan for when Cody got here. A way to create a distraction, so Cody could disarm him. Or to bring him down while Cody distracted him.
There was a shotgun in the hall closet. Maybe I could pretend I had to use the bathroom.
Or there was the chair I was sitting on. It wasn’t a deadly weapon, but it was better than nothing.
I heard the sound of a car pull up in the driveway and tried to look out the window as I gripped the rung of the chair back.
“C’mere.” The guy yanked me by the hair out of my seat.
So much for using the chair as a weapon.
He wrapped an arm around my neck and pressed the barrel of the gun to my head.
Fuck. This was going to be tricky.
The front door opened. “Riley?” Cody’s deep rumble sounded strained.
My captor propelled me forward into the doorway between the kitchen and the living room.
For a moment I thought it was my dad because the man in the living room wore a sheriff’s shirt and hat. But it really was Cody.
He kept his head lowered, hiding his face behind the brim of the hat as he tossed his keys on to the side table.
“Welcome home, Deputy.”
Cody froze, only lifting his head partway.
I had to do something. My captor planned to execute me in front of my dad. The moment he figured out it wasn’t him, he would pull the trigger.
“Dad!” I said, trying to keep the illusion for just a moment longer. At the same time, I cocked and back-jabbed my elbow into his solar plexus as hard as I could, then grabbed the pinky finger on the arm wrapped around my throat and yanked outward, breaking it.
Cody was already on us when the gun went off.
I screamed as I went crashing to the floor. Glass shattered. More gunshots sounded.
I was pinned to the wood floor but didn’t fight. It was Cody’s body covering mine. I knew by scent. By feel.
I knew by the way I wanted to weep in relief.
He was protecting my body with his, as I knew he would do.
How was it that I didn’t trust that this man loved me when I knew at the same time he’d risk his life for me? That he’d do anything to save me?
“Riley!” This time it was my dad’s voice.
“He’s dead,” another person announced. “Know the guy, Kyle?”
“Shit, that’s Daryl Kobchek’s brother,” Dad said. “I don’t know his name, but he was at the trial.”
Cody eased off me, and I looked up. The sheriff had arrived. Both he and my dad had their guns out, aiming at the body on the floor by the shattered coffee table.
“Neil. He’s always been vocal about how his brother was framed. Angry, too, but I never imagined this.”
“Dad?” I asked, and he turned to me. As if he knew the threat was gone.
“No!” My dad shouted in horror when he saw me. He dropped to his knees beside us. “Riley!”
“Wha–” I looked down and sucked in a breath. I was covered in blood.
“Not…hers,” Cody supplied, his voice no more than a gasp. His hand covered a wound in his chest, blood seeping from it.
“Cody!” I screamed, throwing myself at him. Oh my God, he’d been shot.
“Hold up,” the sheriff said evenly, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Give him some space.”
“He needs help!” I cried, shrugging off the contact.
“Looks like that bullet punctured a lung.”
Punctured a–
Cody struggled to breathe–each inhale was a rasping, sucking sound, and the exhales barely moved. My eyes flooded with tears. Shock turned me ice cold. Oh God, he was dying! I yelled at him and told him it was over and now I would lose him.