Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Mike shook his head. “I don’t know, Man. He would’ve told us if he wasn’t gonna be home, right?” He squinted as he surveyed the eat-in kitchen and a portion of the family room to the right, but the wall prevented him from seeing farther inside. Nothing looked out of sorts, but his gut was telling him something was wrong. Mike knocked hard on the window, then the doorframe, but didn’t get an answer.
“Jesus. You’re gonna break the damn glass. Stop.” Manny stood watching him.
“He should’ve heard that, right?” Mike asked, his nerves going crazy. What if Jim was in there needing help and they were all right there and did nothing? “I’m going inside.”
“Mike. You can’t just go in there,” Manny hissed, but it was too late.
Mike had already removed his switchblade, popped the lock, turned the knob, and was easing the back door open within seconds.
“Don’t just walk in there, Mike… fuck.”
“I’m a concerned citizen. I have the right to check it out,” Mike rumbled, then disappeared inside.
“What fuckin’ law is that?” Manny called after him, but Mike ignored it.
“Yo, Jim, it’s Mike! You in here?” he called loud enough for his voice to carry to the second floor. If the old man was in his bedroom watching a riveting marathon of Bonanza, Mike didn’t want to give him a heart attack. “I’m just checking on you, buddy. We haven’t seen you today.”
Nothing appeared out of the ordinary in the immaculate home, not a dish in the sink or a throw pillow out of place in the family room. Hmm. Maybe he did go out of town. But Mike still wanted to knock on Jim’s bedroom door just to be certain. Despite Manny’s ridiculous example, Mike had heard stories of elderly people who lived alone and had accidents where no one found them for days.
“It’s Mike, Jim! We’re almost finished with the yard if you wanna come take a look?” Mike felt a bit foolish, like he was talking to no one, but an unnerving feeling prickled at his spine just before he heard a rush of footsteps behind him. Too fast to be Jim’s.
Mike spun and ducked just as a steel bat was swung at the side of his head that would’ve surely split it in two. The weapon struck the oak banister behind him instead, causing it to break and splinter as Mike locked eyes on his attacker, a younger man he’d never seen before. Mike leapt backward at the second wild swing that aimed for his right side. Motherfucker! Bloodshot, furious green eyes were lasered on him as the man held the bat in a two-handed grip and raised it high over his head, intending to do some serious damage, but the man had no idea who he was fighting. Years of bar brawls, holding-tank feuds, and club fights had made Mike the crazy son of a bitch he was today. While he was no longer a gang enforcer, he still possessed the mentality… and the skill. He was always fearless, irritated, and didn’t give two fucks about anyone that wasn’t his crew or family.
His attacker’s next attempt to crush his skull left his abdomen vulnerable, and Mike balled his fist and slammed it into the man’s midsection hard enough to make him double over. He could’ve swung again and nailed the guy in the jaw, but Mike wasn’t going for permanent damage. The bat hung unsteadily in his aggressor’s left hand as he stumbled backward into a table, trying to grasp on for purchase, but ended up toppling over it. The two-foot glass vase in the center of the foyer table went crashing to the ground, covering the marble floor with shards of crystal and long-stemmed hydrangeas.