Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“True,” he said, and we fell into a tense silence for the next few minutes until, finally, we saw the driveway. “Here we go,” Raff said, sucking in a deep breath.
It was the only sign he was feeling as off as I was.
But neither of us said anything about it as we both checked for our phones, even though they were powered down, our guns, and, finally, keys, before we climbed out of the car, and went to the trunk to grab the bag with the cash.
This place wasn’t much to write home about. But none of the places we bought weapons usually were. I figured maybe it was their unassuming nature that let them fly under the radar of local authorities.
Then again, most of these sellers were in states where gun regulations were low to nearly nonexistent. So no one was really keeping track.
It was a low ranch-style house with a massive detached garage almost twice the size of the actual house out a few yards from the house, and a smaller shed way off in the distance.
There was a quartet of men waiting near the house for us, all in matching uniforms of flannel over their varied body frames, all were in possession of baseball caps, scraggly beards, and sporting some patches on their clothes that spoke of some unsavory connections, and looking like the kind of men you might accidentally fall into conversation with where they would tell you all of their varied, and increasingly insane, conspiracy theories until you literally felt yourself losing brain cells.
“We were worried you weren’t going to make it,” the one in the center, somewhere in his mid-fifties with a bit of a hangover waistline and a nasty scar through his lip, said as we walked toward them.
“Kind of out in the middle of nowhere here,” I said, gaze scanning over the men, trying to get a read on them.
“We like our privacy,” another of the men said, tone unnecessarily clipped, considering we were just having a conversation.
“That we do,” the leader agreed. “You ready to check out the merchandise?” he asked, holding out a hand, waving toward the detached garage.
“Yep,” I agreed, not loving the way the men closed around us as we walked. One on each side of us, the leader ahead, and the snippy one taking our six.
My gaze cut toward Raff, trying to get his attention, so I could gauge if he was getting the same pit in his stomach that I was feeling or if I was just being paranoid. But his gaze was fixed forward, eyes moving across the building like he was trying to learn the schematics of it.
“Right through here, boys,” the leader said, reaching to pull and hold the door open for us. With men behind us, we had no real choice but to move inside.
I couldn’t account for the way my hairs were on end, or how my stomach was twisting into knots. There was nothing about this interaction so far that was much different than all of our other ones.
The inside of the garage was, to put it kindly, a fucking disaster area. Two old cars were sitting inside, half their guts torn out, though it looked like no one had worked on them in years. Boxes were piled up against three of the walls, and rows of random crap—outdoor gear, dusty exercise equipment, and sheets of wood and various other scrap—was scattered all around, practically creating actual aisles full of junk.
Raff’s gaze cut to me then, a whole conversation passing between us, the same concerns wordlessly shared.
Something felt off.
But as soon as we both came to that understanding, I heard a click that had a shiver coursing down my spine.
That was a safety sliding off.
“You boys are just gonna leave that money right there,” the leader said.
Raff’s gaze slid to the bag, then back to my face, giving me an almost imperceptible nod.
“This money?” I asked, lifting it with both hands to get a better hold, and to draw their attention away from Raff and onto me. “Here, take it!” I said, throwing it at them, then ducking behind some sheets of plywood as Raff ducked behind the car, and started shooting.
I grabbed my own gun as I heard a howl from one of the men, then two.
I couldn’t see Raff, but I knew his move. To get to the front door. Then out to the car.
The closest exit for me was the side door.
But if we got out in unison, we could both make it to the car at almost the same time.
More bullets rang out as my heart punched against my ribcage.
One.
Two.
Time to run.
I kept my gun up, trying to keep my gaze forward but running toward the side.
It was how I saw Raff make it to the door, one of the men pulling himself out from behind cover to follow.