Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
I help Spike lean against the side of Jerry's car, but I’m asking Carl. "Did you hear anything?"
"I don't know. They said something about you guys killing some guy named Zeke and that they were after revenge." He closes his eyes and slides down the side of the car until he's crouched against it. "Jesus," he whimpers. "Jesus fucking Christ."
Poor kid. This isn't his scene. Shouldn't be anyone's scene. I look at the others. "The Bloodmoney boys then. Fuck, we should've iced the whole bunch of them, instead of stopping with Zeke. Now at least one more of them is dead, and on the bright side they did us a favor and made a fucking mess of Travis's head."
Piston points at the road. "Well, we got a clue as to where to go. Someone was parked here with an oil leak and the drops go that way. No idea if it's gonna be enough to catch up to them, but they hang out here in the Ditch. As long as they haven't gone too far, we might have a chance."
“I might be able to do one better. I enabled location sharing on her phone the other night." I turn to Jerry. “Alright. It’s your time to shine. I’ve got one shell-shocked college student and a biker who may or may not bleed out before you can get him back to the compound. I’m going to call ahead so there’s someone waiting to take him. Just bring both of them to the compound and they’ll get taken care of.
Jerry nods. "Sure. Of course. How you doing, Carl? Let’s get everyone in the car and then you can tell me all about whatever it is you study. Sandy mentioned you’re really passionate about it." He pats Carl gently on the shoulder.
They pull out a minute later.
I check my map. Sure enough, there’s a dot for Sandra and it’s not that far. “Gotcha.”
34
SANDRA
There's little more terrifying than not being able to see a thing. Especially when you know that your captors have no compunctions about killing you if things don't go their way. I won't have a chance.
As far as I can tell, I'm in the back of a van. No seats, just hard floor, and every turn I get tossed around since I don't even know it's coming with the blindfold on. I wedged myself into the corner as best as possible and all I can do is try to minimize turning into a pinball.
We slow, then a hard right, and stop where a creaky motor is running outside. A moment later we roll forward again. A garage door, probably? The creaky motor runs again, but behind us when we stop. Of course that means that wherever I am now, it's not even visible from the outside.
I'm so screwed.
The van opens and someone yanks me off the floor, picking me right up and throwing me over their shoulder. It digs right into my stomach, knocking the air out of me. Whoever's carrying me laughs at my coughing. Then pats my ass. "Almost there, sexy."
If I thought it would work out well for me in any possible way, I'd elbow him right in the head, but around here, that might just get me shot and it’s not worth the risk.
I'm carried out the back of the van, grunting as my captor takes the step down onto the floor and jamming his shoulder back in my gut. The air is cool and a little clammy. Underground? I don't know how I can use that information, but anything I can learn is something I might be able to leverage later. I just have to keep paying attention.
And hope someone finds me.
I'm carried up a set of stairs, each bounce another dig at my stomach. Up into a cool draft, a place with AC. The air is drier, more comfortable to breathe.
"What the fuck are you doing here? And who the hell is she?" A chill that has nothing to do with the air conditioning races down my spine. That voice I recognize from the gala. Kozlov.
"She belongs to the Eagles that killed Zeke. Just bait with a side of revenge, is all." Frank’s voice. He sounds like he's having a great day so far, love that for him.
"Jesus, and you bring her here? This isn't a hostage storage unit, Frank. I fucking live here."
We're at Kozlov's house? That seems unprofessional, and I’m a college dropout.
"Sorry, boss, but if everything goes as planned, those Eagles will be in little bits by the end of the night." Frank laughs, and it's got a slight maniacal edge to it. "Once I know it's done, I'll dispose of her. Until then, I need the leverage."
"But why did you idiots have to bring her here and make her my problem? If all has gone well today, you won't have to worry about the Eagles at all anymore. I'm just waiting to hear back that Eagle-eye and his guys are wet spots on the asphalt." Kozlov sounds eerily confident. What the heck has happened? If he’s right, then I’m on my own to get myself out of this.