Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 72856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
So as not to incite her, I chose not to use the name we all knew and loved him by.
“You did not,” she hissed.
I started to reach down, but she fired a warning shot…at my truck.
It hit my baby with a ping and the back right wheel instantly sank to the ground.
I closed my eyes and put my hand back up.
She wasn’t just psychotic; she was also certifiably insane.
A dangerous combination that explained the fucked up mess that was Fatbaby’s wife, Lynn Sims
“Aaron’s ring isn’t in your possession. There’s no way you could’ve found it out there,” she hissed.
I narrowed my eyes.
“It’s in my pocket,” I said with a certainty.
She must’ve read it in my eyes or the posture of my body, because she aimed the rifle once again.
At my head.
I started to get sick to my stomach.
Not because death was staring at me but because of what my death would do to the people that I loved.
I just hoped that when she shot me, I didn’t have to live the rest of my life on a freakin’ ventilator or something, paralyzed from the waist down.
That’d be the pits.
Never being able to enjoy Mia’s warm…
“What are you doing?” Lynn screamed, spittle flying out of her mouth in her haste to get the words out.
I blinked, coming back to myself and the situation I was in and pushing thoughts of Mia’s hot, tight pussy and how much it would suck if I couldn’t have it any more, out of my head.
I looked down and noticed I’d managed to back myself up behind the bed of the truck, a much better position than the one I started in with just the open windows of the cab between me and her.
“I thought you wanted me to come to you,” I said.
“I do,” she said stiffly.
I winced and started moving.
I never actually realized just how awkward it was to walk with your hands in the air.
It wasn’t that it was difficult…just weird.
I made my way up the front lawn, calculating what kind of damage the bullet in the AR-15 she was holding would do to me this close up.
It’d surely kill me.
I wouldn’t have to worry about being a vegetable.
“Go into the garage. Then into the kitchen,” she ordered, backing away from me.
I did as I was told, following in between the two cars that were parked there.
I tried not to look at the Impala.
I really did, but it was like a train wreck.
I couldn’t not look at it.
There was white paint covering the majority of the right side, and the entire front end was smashed in.
It was a wonder that the damn thing had been able to make it home. It didn’t look like it’d make it a fucking block.
“Move,” I was poked in the back with the gun.
Needless to say, I moved.
When I got into the house, my first thought was that she’d cleaned.
Lynn didn’t clean.
And then I saw all the boxes.
She was moving.
More like running, my subconscious said.
I linked my hands at the back of my neck, trying not to think about how they burned, and turned to face her.
“You thought you were so funny, bringing that ring here. I left that with him. He deserved to have it back after he’d given it to me with the news that he was divorcing me,” she sneered. “Where is it?”
I gritted my teeth.
“Left front pocket,” I said.
She smiled and moved forward, and I tried to hold the smile inside.
Just a little closer. Come on.
She froze when something loud banged outside and turned, making a big mistake in my favor.
I moved lightening quick, pushing the gun down and bringing my left elbow down on her right forearm.
She cried out in pain as the bones of her wrist snapped.
I caught the rifle before it could fall all the way to the floor and had it turned on her before she sank all the way to the ground while cradling her arm.
I didn’t have a single fuck to give as I kicked her down onto her face and proceeded to tie her arms behind her back with a piece of fabric that I’d yanked off the apron that was hanging next to the door.
She cried out in pain, but I chose to ignore that, too.
Searching her body and finding her clean, I kicked open the door that led to the garage and then hit the button that lifted the big door up, not at all surprised to find three, black-clad figures pointing their guns at me.
I set the gun down on the concrete floor of the garage and then raised my hands above my head once again.
“You okay?” One asked.
Nico.
I nodded. “I am.”
“That Lynn Sims?” Another asked.
I nodded again. “It is.”
He nodded and directed me out with hand signals.
I would’ve followed him, too, but a flash of brown caught my eye as I saw the little reporter that watched me find the ring, dash around the corner of the living room.