Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 87756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
"Warehouse on Kennedy. She went at D with a padlock. She paid for it," I supplied, barely able to get that short retelling of events out with the fire churning in my stomach.
"And you'll make him pay for whatever he did to her," Shoot said with a look that said he understood. When someone fucked with Amelia, he'd made the entire fucking side of the man's head explode with a bullet. You didn't fuck with what was ours. At least not without expecting to pay for it with your life.
Breaker's SUV pulled up and he rambled up toward us, all long-legs and coiled muscles, ready for a fight. If it weren't for my rage making me hum like a God-damn psychopath, he would be the most formidable one in our group. Shooter was a bit on the thin side, wiry, great with a gun, but with a gallows type of humor in every situation, making you underestimate his skills. Sawyer and Brock had a calmness about them that spoke of inhuman self-control. Tig was huge, but he had a bit of a gut, making anyone who didn't know him think he would get winded in a fight. But Breaker, Breaker spent a lot of fucking time keeping himself in shape, never knowing who he would be paid to lay the hurt on and what shape they might be in. He was big, bulky, and lethal with a mix of control and rage that made anyone shrink away from him when he was on a job.
He was on a job.
And this was personal to him because it was personal to me.
And that made him all the more dangerous.
Shoot filled him in and we compared notes.
"I don't know how fucking long you plan on watching this place when who-knows what is happening to her in there," I growled as we stood beside a building to the left of the warehouse, watching the door.
We'd been there fifteen or twenty minutes already just fucking waiting and watching.
All we'd seen was D walk out for a smoke then go back in.
I took a bit of comfort in the nasty fucking bruise he had on his cheek.
If she hit him, at least she managed to do some damage.
"Quiet," Sawyer barked, pointing toward the building.
When I looked again, there was a new car parked out front. It was late model and expensive. The driver and passenger doors opened and two people stepped out. One, I recognized as one of Enzo's former higher-ups, the guy who he would bring with him to go pick up the shipments of H when it came in.
And the other person...
"No fucking way," I hissed.
Seventeen
Elsie
The door opened and closed four times when I was in the office, the sound reverberating around all the metal walls. I flinched every time, my shoulders going up toward my ears, my heart starting to hammer in my chest. The first two times, nothing happened. Someone must have just went outside and then came back in. The second and third times, there was an automatic hush to all babble outside the office and I figured that meant that the boss was there.
A few minutes later, the door opened and I froze. But it was only Trick. "Come on," he said, sounding suddenly tired.
Pretty sure I had no choice, I slowly got up and moved toward him, stepping into the doorway and following where he was taking me which seemed to be toward the group of three people standing in a circle. One was D. Another was some guy I didn't recognize. The third was...
"No," I hissed, stopping mid stride and drawing the full attention from the trio.
I wasn't absolutely positive at first.
But then the second that they all fully turned toward me, oh yeah, I was sure.
Freaking positive actually.
"Elana?" I asked, my voice a strange, raspy sound.
Her hair was different. It had been long and blond when I had last seen her and now it was cut in a long bob, brushing her shoulders, and dyed a deep, rich brown which only made the gray eyes she'd inherited from our father pop all the more. She had on plain black slacks, spiky heels, and a tight gray sweater that stretched over her, admittedly much larger than mine, boobs. I hated to admit it because, Lord knew, if she was in the Third Street gang's warehouse on Kennedy then she was not in a good place mentally, but she looked good. She was standing straighter, her eyes looked clear, her hair cut and color really suited her. She looked like the best version of herself.
"Elsie?" she gasped and I figured she had no idea I was there. She turned back toward D so fast that she actually blurred to my eyes. "What the fuck happened to her?" she demanded with so much viciousness that D actually went back a step. Hell, I even felt myself straightening and she wasn't talking to, or looking at, me.