Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 76736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Fuck, give me the open road and a good old-fashioned brawl rather than this ninja shit, but for who we are, I think we do pretty fucking well.
I hum the Mission Impossible tune while I dart from bush to bush to keep covered. King moves with a determination that screams that he doesn't give a fuck, striding through the yard like he's daring a motherfucker to try to stop him. Hero brings up the rear, keeping a lookout with a hand on his belt, right near his piece. He's not the type to draw first, but he is the type to draw last and still finish it.
And then the Cleanup Crew comes roaring by, screaming and hollering. Viking, Bear, Hawk and Snark, and Eagle-eye make so much fucking noise you'd think it was the whole gang. The windows of the estate rattle like they're gonna fall out. Some dark shapes at the far end of the yard separate from the shadows and run towards the wall the see what the fuck's going on. Guess they didn't see us then.
We sprint the rest of the way, now that the coast should be clear. Fuck. Emily's so close I can fucking feel it.
We throw ourselves against the wall, just waiting for an alarm to go up, but there's nothing.
“I think we fucking did it.” I grin at the others.
“So far,” grunts King. “It could still be a fucking trap.”
Yeah, it could be, but we don't have a fucking choice. If we could've brought the whole club in for a full-on charge, that would've been my vote, but until we know Emily's safe, that'd be dumb. Still, I pat my piece for reassurance. And my knife, and the knife on the other side, and the one in my boot. It's like the fucking Macarena.
“What the hell are you doing?” asks Hero, but I just grin at him.
There's a back door here, just like Emily's mom said. Let's see if she came through.
Hero tries it, and it comes open with a soft click. Well-oiled too. It hardly makes a sound. In we go, into the lion's den. Except, if I see this fucking lion in his den, I might just fucking shoot him and spare us all a shitload of trouble. His skin would look great stretched out above a mantelpiece.
“Here's hoping there aren't a fuckton of cops waiting for us around the corner,” growls King, then takes the lead.
There's no one. No Emily, no Emily's mom, but more importantly, no cops or guards. And we know where Emily's room is. It's like we're fucking regulars. I laugh quietly.
King punches my shoulder. “Head in the game.”
Right.
Up the stairs to the first floor, around the corner, and then we're standing in a hall that's all marble, chrome and dark stained wood. Everything screams money. Framed oil paintings on the wall, including a portrait of our asshole mayor himself. I have a knife out immediately. After giving it my best art critic stance, I cut a huge X through the canvas, from corner to corner.
“Here's hoping Hawthorne has a fucking heart attack when he sees it.”
“Fuck Hawthorne,” hisses Hero. “Where's Emily?”
“If she's not here, we go get her.” King pushes open the door to the hallway that leads to her room. We're almost there when it opens. I raise my knife and Hero puts his hand on his gun.
But the only one who comes out is Emily.
She's beautiful, and the way her face lights up when she sees us is a fucking aphrodisiac. She's wearing jeans, a jacket and backwards baseball cap to keep her hair out of her face, and she's carrying a duffel bag over her shoulder that she's struggling with. I've seen her sexier, sweaty and naked beneath me, but the fierceness of her grin and her determined stance has me hard like a fucking rock. When we get back to the clubhouse, I'm going to show her exactly how much I've fucking missed her, and how happy I am to have her back.
We all fucking will.
37
EMILY
They came. They're here. My heart's been going like a jackhammer since I heard the bikes roaring down the road, and I knew we were about to start, but I was sure something was going to go wrong. Or that Mom was going to rat us out, and that she was just helping Dad set a trap for King, Hero and Wild Child.
But now they're standing here, looking at me like I've always wanted someone to look at me. Seeing me. And from the deep, dark smolder in King's eyes, ready to devour me. My cheeks hurt from smiling so hard.
“Hey, guys,” I say in a choked squeak, trapped between wanting to be quiet and wanting to scream it out. “You made it.”
“Of course we fucking made it.” Wild Child grins like a kid, so cocksure that I don't know why I ever doubted it. “Your mama came through.”