Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 85183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
CLICK. The door opens, and Joe gets in the car. Rich lunges for the door grabbing onto it and slinging his body in behind Joe. Joe goes for his gun, but I point mine at his head with a resounding click.
"You fucking underestimated me," I say.
Joe looks up, and a sly smirk falls over his lips. "Did I?"
I use my free hand and tap over the glass. "Drive," I tell Stan.
The limo pulls away from the curb, bumping over the speed bumps. Rich grabs Joe's shoulders and forces him to turn around. Rich forces his hands behind his back, binding them with rope. Once he is finished restraining him, Joe laughs and slinks back into the seat.
We drive for miles; Joe and I sit glaring at each other coldly. He lifts a brow, a dark grin spreading over his mouth. "So, this is how it all ends is it? How are you going to kill me, Jude?"
I swallow hard as I stare at him. Even though he's at my mercy at this moment, he is completely calm, collected, unaffected by any of this, which makes me worry. "Slowly," is my only reply.
He laughs. "Always with the dramatic, your father was the same. Me, I like to kill emotionally before physically, it's more difficult, more agonizing. You see, I didn't kill your father physically, but he was already dead years before his heart gave out, wasn't he?" He chuckles again. "He hunted me until the day he died, trying to right something that couldn't be fixed, and now you're doing the same. I guess I should be flattered really."
I grit my teeth. The amount of sweat building in my palm is making the handle of the gun slippery. I will not acknowledge this piece of shit. I want to fucking put a bullet in his head right now; my finger twitches over the trigger. I could do it. I should do it. But he deserves to fucking suffer.
"Of course, I knew your father would come for me after I sent him that video." He grins. "I made him watch his virginal daughter get fucked again, and again."
Tension builds in my chest, my pulse going so wild I can feel it ticking in the end of my fingertips.
"You're having a daughter, right, Jude." His smile deepens. "I've already fucked her mother, so if you think about it, I've already fucked her while she was barely a thought in her mother's womb." White hot rage simmers beneath my skin. He leans forward slightly. "I've fucked every woman you ever cared about," he breathes.
Heat floods every last fucking inch of my skin. My heart is hammering against my ribs like a wild animal determined to escape, forcing the blood through my veins so hard black spots impair my vision. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying desperately to fight every fucking urge in my body. I have to do this the right way so we can leave this shit behind us.
"She's a good woman that girl of yours, her pussy is even tighter than your sister's and seeing as mine was the first dick to have her, that's saying something."
I pull the trigger. Joe grunts as the bullet rips through his shoulder. "Shut the fuck up!" I hiss.
He laughs maniacally, and then everything happens at once.
"Drop it,” Rich shouts, panicked. "Drop it!"
I turn and Stan has a pistol pointed at my face. BAM. Blood splatters the windshield as Stan slumps forward against the steering wheel. The car violently veers off the road. Tires squeal, and we fishtail from side to side. I try to brace myself, but the sudden jerk throws me against the side of the car, my gun flying from my grasp. There's a bang, and a moment of weightlessness, and then all I can hear is metal bending and glass shattering. There's a loud crunch as the car flips over, and I'm tossed around like a rag doll inside the cab as it rolls over and over again.
Suddenly, everything stops. My head spins as I try to find my bearings, and I attempt to blink away the dizziness. My ears are ringing so fucking loud.
The car is upside down, the windows all smashed out, the door frames buckled. The dim interior light casts enough of a glow that I can see Rich sprawled out in front of me, his neck twisted at a horrible angle, broken. Fuck. I try to sit up, but pain splinters through my leg. I glance down. My thigh is impaled by a jagged piece of glass, blood oozing around its edges. I grab the slick material, my hands shaking as I yank it out. A nauseating wave of pain courses through me, and blood spurts from the wound. I yank off my belt and strap it around my thigh, cinching it tightly above the gash. I frantically feel around me, moving debris as I search for my gun. Movement catches my eye. Joe's scrambling out of the broken door. He leans back against the window frame, the snapped hinges creaking from his weight, and moments later, I hear his heavy footsteps as he jogs away from the car.