Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Could Jamie’s brothers handle everyone in that tinted SUV?
Everything was happening so fast. Carrying me in his arms, Jamie’s long limbs ate up the pathway to the opposite side of the garage. From my position, being jostled around in Jamie’s arms as he ran, I could see Camdyn take cover just inside the first garage door opening. He shot toward the Russians while Brody planted himself behind a Chevy Silverado, also exchanging gunfire.
Metal pinged. Bullets punched through the window of the Silverado.
“Keep your head down, Jordyn,” Jamie ordered.
I tucked my head into his shoulder. He set me on my own two feet at the last semi-truck stall. I yanked open the passenger door to the muscle car and rushed inside. Jamie got behind the wheel, gunned the engine, and tore out of the garage, fishtailing it around the side of the garage door to turn onto the narrow drive.
The car tore across the pavement, away from the action. Through the rearview mirror, Jamie’s eyes flashed—wild, enraged, more blue than green tonight. It gutted me to watch him leave his brothers in the ninth hour and must’ve eviscerated him completely too. As we approached the only gate to exit their family business, a round struck the rear windshield, spider-webbing the glass.
A bullet tore through the backseat upholstery and straight into the radio. Rebel moaned, and I shrieked. The motion-activated gate opened. Jamie careened through and made a tight turn into an alley. A couple of moments later, he slid onto a city street and flew down the road.
Sometime later, a bank sign we passed indicated it was nearly two hours after our escape from Dominguez Hills. That was before we climbed halfway up a narrow mountain road. The vehicle idled, tucked behind a maintenance shed half hidden by brush. Below us, the city glimmered in a sea of amber and white. What city? I didn’t know. I hadn’t said a word to Jamie, though. Still didn’t know how to comfort a man with my mouth in a way that would lead to a strong bond.
Jamie got out of the car and strolled around the front. Hair like chaos obstructed most of his face as he placed his palms onto the swoop of the hood. Then came the fists. One hit. Two. A third, vicious fist against the pretty white streak.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. I should probably save Leith’s car. He did, after all, help save me. The first time. Gah, my day’s free was zilch. I got out slowly, arms wrapped around myself. The chilly air nipped straight through my hoodie. “Ja—”
“What the hell was I thinking?” He looked up at me from his leaned position, forearms and biceps bulging from the strain beneath his—no longer white—Henley. “I was not thinking. I left them. Left them. My bràthairs!” Wild acrimony leaped from his chest, then a fist pounded that spot.
“They wanted you to go.”
“You don’t get it, JorJor.” Though I delighted in the way my nickname exited his lips, his jaw remained clenched, voice hoarse. “I left them.”
I peppered his square chin with kisses. An angry muscle kicked beneath my only endeavor to console him. “They’re the good guys. Like you. They told you to protect me.”
“What if they’re dead?” He roughed a hand over his face. “They’re dead, and I’ve treated them like crap. Practically ripped Brody a new one while saying he or my dad got the cops involved.”
“Let’s call them.”
“I did.”
Did he?
“You dozed off a few times, Jordyn.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Called them a few times too. Four, to be precise.”
I grimaced. “I’m sor—”
“Don’t apologize.” The rage drained from him. Drained enough that I could tell he could think now.
“Where are we?”
“Halfway up Big Bear. My family has a cabin.”
“Well, Mr. UC Santa Barbara Master’s Degree, who loves lists, we have three options. We can post here while you tell me about this uncle-person who’s a cop. Two, same scenario, different scene. You chat while driving up these windy curves. Three, same scenario, but we chat over breakfast after we sleep for a week.”
We didn’t quite make it a week. But we slept for two days. On Monday, I could hardly keep my eyes open, even in the shower. Today, I awoke to whispered voices. I slid from the bed and walked around the pallet Jamie had made for himself on the floor. I gave one last look at the blankets he’d rather sleep in on the ground than at my side. The doubt and confusion I swam in because I loved a man after vowing to hate them all clawed at my chest.
I heaved a breath to ease my constricted throat, shook my head, and strolled into the hallway. The upper level of the a-frame cabin overlooked a two-story massive glass wall. Yep. A cabin on steroids, which I’d barely previewed yesterday in between bites of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich—my only meal for the day. Sunrays streamed in and framed a picturesque lake. No, why should I play myself? That lake, although appearing warm and inviting, would leave me with shattered teeth.