Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“Then why are you—”
“Because you know too fucking much. Isn’t that obvious? You know what we look like, you know what the killers look like, and we don’t even know anymore how much you’ve overheard. We can’t risk keeping you around.” He grins, a grimace of pure evil. “Only reason you’re still alive is that the Eagles want you, and we can use that. The war’s still brewing, and the more unhinged we get them, the easier it’s gonna be to force it. The Screaming Eagles will be eradicated, and I’m looking forward to you watching it all before I fucking beat you to death, you little bitch.”
Anderson smiles. “Are you hungry?”
Oh God.
I can't let them hurt me. Play meek, play docile. Be the girl they want. When I get out of here—when, not if—I can find a spot to curl up into a tiny ball and cry for a long, long time. Probably some therapy. But until then, I need to stay on the ball and keep focused. An opportunity could show itself at any moment, and if I don't grip it with both hands and make the most of it… well, I'm not going to let myself think that way.
“So why the binder?”
Harris glances at the table as if he’s forgotten it’s even there. “Just placating Hawthorne. I think he’s still got some ideas about running a trial, but you and I, we both know that’s not gonna happen.”
“So I’m just going to sit here and… what?”
“Frankly, Ms. Thompson. I don’t give a shit. Sit here and cry if it helps you pass the time. I'll be back.” Then they leave me alone in the room, shutting the double doors behind them. The click of the lock tells me I'm locked in. Trapped, again.
With nothing else to do, I flip through the book. My heart lurches when I find Wraith, then Nitro and Tank. I put my fingers on their pictures, and this time I can't keep my tears back. They drip onto the pages, staining them, and I don't care if I ruin Harris's stupid binder.
I slam the book shut and get up to pace the room. I’m supposed to be a biker chick badass, right? That’s what my men keep telling me. What would a biker chick badass do?
Maybe there's something in here I can use. The chairs? They look old, like antiques. I try each of them, and three of them are steady as rocks, but the fourth one… is the leg loose? I try to wrench it, but it refuses to budge. I lean it forward so its balanced on a diagonal between the floor and the edge of the table. Then I lean as much weight on the bad leg as possible.
It doesn't do anything. At least not right away, but then, as I start to bounce, there's a soft creak.
Maybe?
I try harder, grabbing the edge of the table to pull myself down for every bounce, trying to put as much force on the chair as possible, and it creaks louder.
It snaps, the chair crashing to the floor with me on top of it. I slam into the floor, jarring my teeth together and knocking my head against the table's edge, but the leg has broken off. I try to ignore the throbbing in my head and the ache that tells me I've scraped up my shin as I pick up the makeshift club. It's pretty solid. I give it a little test swing. Maybe I can't overpower Harris or Anderson, but it's heavy enough to give me a chance.
The only chance I have right now.
35
TANK
When we reach the courtyard, the Giordanos are already here. Arturo, Luca and Nicholas stand in front of their black SUV, Arturo with his arms crossed over his chest and glowering. A second SUV just like his pulls in behind waved in by Viking at the gate.
“Is it true?” Arturo asks. “You've found the man responsible for the death of my men?”
“Yes, but he was Hawthorne's tool,” replies Eagle-eye. “We’re working on tracking down Hawthorne’s location now. If you’d like to join the hunt, I’d love to see the look on that asshole’s face when he sees us working together.”
“Hawthorne? Cazzo. Tempting, but I can’t risk it.” He nods his head sideways. “Nicholas, go with them. I want a full report.”
“Of course.”
Our group is small, but it’s solid. Me, Nitro, Tank and Eagle-eye, with Nicholas following behind in one of the mob cars. I raise my hand into the air. Eagle-eye, Nitro and Tank pull up next to me, revving their engines. “Everyone good to go?” When all of them give me a signal, I nod. “Then let’s roll out. It’s time to get Kaylee back.”
We follow the GPS until it’s dark and a wrought iron fence blocks our way, at least fifteen feet tall with spikes on top. On the other side a driveway disappears into the trees. The bars have way too tight spacing to slip through, and they'd be a fucking bitch to climb. And the front gate's even taller, the top of the massive doors formed into an arch.