Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
He grins at me and says, “It’s our secret.”
The doors to the car close softly, although they cause a gentle thud to resonate in the bitter cold. I keep my gaze on the warm yellow light coming from the upstairs of the two-story house.
“Sticking to the plan?”
I nod at Mason’s question, not stopping my pace, and not taking my eyes off the light upstairs. Duct tape and rope are in the trunk.
I crack my knuckles one by one, all the pent-up anger and fear from the past couple of weeks raging through my blood, begging for revenge.
I came so close to losing everything because of this fucker. My wife would have been a pregnant widow. And it’s because of this asshole.
“Yeah, stick to the plan,” I answer Mason.
He grins at me. “I’ll get the front, you get the back.”
Just as we break, the man of the hour walks right out the front door, hoodie on and straight out onto the sidewalk, only feet from the car.
“I don’t do meets here, get the fuck out,” he informs us with a threatening tone that only heats the rage coursing in my blood.
“Not here?” Mason questions as if we’re here to buy or sell or whatever the hell Andrew thinks we’re here for.
“Yeah, like I said, I don’t do meets here,” Andrew repeats and then opens his coat, flashing a gun tucked in his waistband. “So get the fuck out.”
Dumb prick should have had the gun in his hand.
The rage turns my vision red.
Before I know what I’m doing, I go for the first punch, slamming my fist right in his jaw. It’s reckless, but it’s a damn good release of all the tension I’ve been carrying. My blood rushes in my ear as he and Mason both fumble for the gun. Mason grabs it from him as a bullet goes off, flying through the air and ricocheting off the car. Crouching down, I get in another punch, stunning the dealer. It’s cold and the freezing air bites into my white-knuckled fist. Over and over I feel my muscles tighten, gripping onto his collar, then letting the rage pour out of me, blow by blow. My teeth grind against one another as I don’t hold back a damn thing.
Crack! The prick’s jaw snaps and I feel the bones crunch under the weight of my fist. I see the images that haunted me for weeks.
Andrew pulls back his arm and lands a single solid punch to my cheek. It’ll bruise, but it barely affects me. Nothing can pull me from this haze of vengeance. My head snaps to the side as another punch lands on my chin. I throw all my weight forward, pushing him to the ground and feeling my body fall on top of his, slamming hard onto the concrete sidewalk.
“Fuck!” he screams out just as I pin him under me and throw punch after punch. His nose cracks under one of them; I don’t know how many I get in. I can’t stop.
“Evan!” Mason cries out, his fingers prying into my shoulders then my chest, desperately pulling me backward, but I get one more hit in that snaps Andrew’s head to the side and for a moment, I think he’s dead. He lies there nearly lifeless. Blood’s covering his face and soaking into my knuckles. Red lays in streaks everywhere.
Andrew spits blood onto the street next to him and coughs it up as I attempt to rein in my heaving breaths.
“Snap out of it. It’s not the plan.” Mason repeats, “It’s not the plan. This isn’t the plan.” There’s a ringing in my ears that won’t quit. One that balances out my tunnel vision and the stinging pain that shoots from the split knuckles on my hand.
When I finally catch my breath, Mason is on top of him on the ground, pinning him down. Andrew knees Mason in the stomach, desperately trying to win a losing fight. But I’m too quick, grabbing his own gun and shooting him once in his thigh.
I don’t want to kill him. That’s not my job to do.
He’s not for me. But I’ll be damned if I didn’t love beating the piss out of him.
Andrew screams out in agony and Mason, still wincing and holding his gut, socks him right in the mouth.
Mason catches his breath as he slowly stands up and Andrew stares up at us, begging for mercy.
“Are you Andrew Jones?” I ask him and he hesitates to answer, so I fire a shot off right next to him.
“Yes!” he screams. “Fuck! Yes!”
I crouch down in front of him, gun still in my hand. “The same Andrew Jones that left those messages for Samantha? The ones convincing her to murder her husband?” The blood drains from his face as I talk. I’m not some dealer looking to get more turf. I’m not a cop. True fear permeates the air as the fool shakes his head. “The same Andrew Jones that gave her tainted coke so she could end his life and pay you half of what the insurance company was going to give her?”