Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 136247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 681(@200wpm)___ 545(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 681(@200wpm)___ 545(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
It’s so unbelievable my nerves are fried for the next fifty years.
“Go get him,” I whisper. “Just don’t put yourself in danger if he’s still conscious. Not again.”
He nods, turns, and does a double take when he sees Hellboy’s silhouette glowing in the moonlight, flashing that devil-may-care grin.
“Get him off the dock! This thing’s like a sponge, lots of rot, it’s gonna collapse any second.” Without waiting, Quinn runs to the end, motioning frantically to the goat.
Finally something else I can help him with.
I find my shoes, stuff my feet into them, and run.
“Hellboy, get your cute butt over here!” I click my tongue at the goat, not wanting the dock to collapse with him on it. The water will give him a heart attack if he doesn’t sink straight to the bottom first.
With a bored look, he finally deigns to turn and meet me.
I grasp his horn as soon as he’s in range and lead him off the dock.
“Okay, tough guy, you’ve won me over,” I tell him. “I’m going to make sure Uncle Dean keeps you rich in bananas for the next year.”
Hellboy bleats in agreement.
Despite it all, I laugh, knowing how much he loves his fruit snacks between the big grazing jobs.
As we step off the dock, I notice the other goats, how they have the few goons who didn’t run at the first chance surrounded.
Even Marvin, who Quinn whipped across the face with the guy’s own gun, is flat on the ground, groaning and holding a hand against his side.
Owl’s there, too, this big growling blur of fur, reminding any man who moves that he won’t hesitate to pick up right where the goats left off. The minute he sees me, though, he breaks into a ground-eating run and nearly bowls me over.
I give him a fierce hug. “My other hero. I knew you wouldn’t leave me hanging. You’re too tough to let these idiots put you down.”
He gives me an excited bark, then returns to the men, keeping tight circles, overseeing his goat brigade.
By the time I return to the edge of the dock, Quinn pulls a miserable, limp Bat Pickett through the water, just in time for the boat arriving next to them.
“Damn. A day late and a dollar short,” Drake says, sounding disappointed. “Sorry we weren’t quicker. It’s harder than you’d think to steer this thing at night without making a sound. At least we can help you load up the trash.”
“The goats beat you sloths,” Quinn says with a grin. “But yeah, I guess you can help me tie them up. Still one more rattlesnake unaccounted for, and I’m thinking we’ll find him at my place.”
What does he mean? I glance around, knowing all the men here took a huge beating. And the couple oddballs who escaped won’t get far.
Not in nowhere cornfields stretching for miles. Plus, every country road is bound to be swarming with police soon.
“No need,” Ridge says, beaming a blue-eyed smile my way. “The sheriff already arrested Goode. Caught him lurking around your house right after you left. Deputies should be here any minute.”
“Shit, you guys are serious?” Quinn rakes a hand through his hair. “I owe you.”
“I called the sheriff as soon as you hung up,” Drake says. “From everything you told me, I figured he’d move swiftly the second you were gone, trying to plant something to implicate you in all this. Our instincts were right.”
Quinn nods. “Thanks, guys. That’s exactly what I thought after talking to James, too. Just wish he was here so I could thank him.”
I’m officially lost in this conversation, so I mostly keep silent and out of the way as the three men ground the canoe and finish hauling Bat onto the shore. He’s still breathing.
Part of me wishes he wasn’t, but then, there’s no telling how many people they could help by capturing a kingpin creep like this alive. This time, there’ll be no easy ticket out of prison.
Something moves in a tree overhead as soon as the guys are ashore.
I almost scream, wondering if they missed one of Pickett’s men. But I recognize the big, bearded hulk who slides down and turns to me with a smile, a big rifle slung over his back.
“What. The. Hell.” Grady rumbles, swiping a hand over his face. “Lady, I’ve seen a lot of crazy shit in my time, but this takes the cake—hell, the whole bakery. You okay?”
I give him a friendly nod. “Fine now. It makes me feel better knowing you were up there the whole time.”
“Faulk did the hard part, never needed my backup,” he says with a shrug. “I couldn’t get a clear line of sight on Goliath over there without risking hitting you or Faulk. You’re damn lucky those goats came charging in when they did. How’d they get here, anyway?”