Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 168587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 843(@200wpm)___ 674(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 168587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 843(@200wpm)___ 674(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
I watch Ryat pull his cell out of his pocket and make a phone call. He’s pacing back and forth next to the car before he takes a few more steps farther away and begins to speak quickly into his cell.
Pushing against the car, I try to lift their weight up off me. But I hear a gun cock and then feel the barrel at the back of my head. “Don’t fucking move, Tyson. Or it’ll be the last thing you do.”
My teeth grind. I can’t save my wife if I’m dead. I know she’s alive. The one thing about them stopping me is that I was able to think about it.
This was a ploy. My club didn’t burn down by accident when I was away. No, they wanted her here without me. If she’s not out here with the others, then she’s been taken. They want me to think she’s inside burning.
Don’t get me wrong, I was going in even if I wasn’t going to be coming back out. I’d risk my life to save my wife’s. Because there’s still a small voice in the back of my mind saying that she’s in there. Someone wanted to kill her to hurt me. That’s what would hurt the most—having to live the rest of my life without her.
This isn’t the Lords’ doing. They’d never take Blackout from me. It’s personal, which means they’d go after my wife.
I saw Alex and Jenks right before I got tased, both beat the fuck up but alive. They were jumped by two men, both in masks. They looked like dogs with their tails tucked between their legs because they think they failed me by not saving my wife. But the reality is, I failed her. She wasn’t their responsibility. I didn’t have time to discuss with them, but I sent them to my house to make sure it wasn’t next. I need it to stay standing. I can access Blackout footage from my home office.
“You have a phone call,” Ryat says, sounding much more cheerful as he walks back over to us and hands his phone to the guy who’s got the gun to the back of my head.
He huffs, repositioning the gun so he has one free hand. “Hello?” Pause. “Sir… Yes. Yes, I understand.” He hands Ryat back his phone. And a long silence follows before he says, “Uncuff him.”
They growl, annoyed that whoever Ryat called probably threatened their career. The first cuff unlocks, and I pull my hands around to my front, not even bothering to wait for the second.
Pushing off the hood, I spin around, rip the gun from the officer’s hand and shoot him in the chest. The sound of the gun going off echoes through the packed parking lot and the officer falls backward onto his back. “Fuuckk,” he groans, gripping his chest and rolling to his side.
“Jesus, Tyson,” another one spits out, falling to his friend’s side. “What if he hadn’t been wearing his vest?” he barks, looking up at me.
“That’s what I was hoping for.” I remove the magazine and toss the useless gun to the ground beside him.
“I’m sorry, but your wife is gone.”
I turn to see the officer I shot now bent over but up on his feet, glaring at me.
His eyes look over the flames that heat up my back. “There’s no way anyone left inside could have survived.”
That right there is why the Lords don’t cooperate with the police. They can’t see the bigger picture. My wife is alive. The question is, where the fuck is she? I’m going to find out.
I turn to Ryat, and we walk closer to Blackout. It’s still up in flames. “Whoa.” He runs in front of me, his hands on my chest. “We both know she’s not in there.” He lowers his voice. “This is a ploy, Ty. I know it, and so do you.” He speaks what I was just thinking but still. There’s always that small chance.
I run my hands through my hair, realizing I still have that one cuff on my wrist. “What if she is, though?” I ask through gritted teeth. “Would you take that chance with Blakely?”
He looks away from me, sighing, knowing his answer would be the same as mine. “Tracker.” His large eyes come back to mine, snapping his fingers. “You’ve got a tracker, right?”
I yank my cell out of my back pocket and pull it up. “It shows the alley,” I say, and we run through the back parking lot to the side alley. This tracker is on point. It could be at the bottom of the ocean, and it would show me how many feet deep it is.
We enter the dimly lit alley. “Lake?” I call out. “Laikyn?” I’m shouting while I breathe heavily. Glancing at my cell, I come to a stop. “This is where it says she is.” Lowering my hand, I look at the ground, and my blood runs cold when I see her tracker by my shoe. “GODDAMMIT!”