Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 61042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
I threw myself forward, catching the pipe on my forearm instead of letting it connect with her skull. The impact drove a spike of pain up to my shoulder, but I kept moving, slamming the attacker back into the wall hard enough to put a hole in the drywall. He grunted, the pipe clattering to the floor, and I wrenched his elbow backward until it popped. He collapsed, screaming, his arm bent in a direction it shouldn’t bend.
A second man climbed through a window above the kitchen sink. We were three floors up! How the fuck had he managed? He picked up a knife from the small counter as he scrambled to the floor. The guy came at me with the blade held low, aiming for my gut. I sidestepped, but Diesel was faster. He caught the man from behind, grabbed him by the back of the skull, and slammed his face into the stove. Once, twice, a third time. Teeth clattered across the linoleum. The man went limp, blood spraying from his ruined mouth. Diesel let him drop and stepped back, his face expressionless.
From the hallway came the sound of a short, brutal exchange. A thud, a crack, and then silence.
Inferno appeared in the doorway a moment later, his knuckles bloody, his expression grim. “One in the hall,” he said. “Three total?”
I nodded. “Veda?”
I turned to find her in the bedroom doorway, the laptop bag slung over her shoulder and the ledger pressed to her chest with her free hand.
“I’m fine,” she said, her voice trembling slightly but she held her ground. “I got what I came for.”
Behind her, the one Diesel had relieved of his teeth stirred, reaching for something on the floor. A gun. The bastard had a piece tucked in the back of his waistband that must have fallen when I took him down.
I kicked the gun away, and Veda knelt to retrieve it. When she stood, Veda’s eyes went wide as her gaze focused over my shoulder.
I spun, raising my gun, just as a fourth man barged through the entry door from beside me, already lunging with a knife. I barely registered the threat before the bastard was close enough I could smell the cigarettes on his breath. He was going to stab me…
A shot rang out, deafening in the small apartment. The man’s head snapped back, a spray of blood, bone, and brain painting the wall behind him. He hit the floor face-first and didn’t move. I whipped around to see Veda holding the gun in trembling hands, her gaze fixed on the man lying dead in a pool of his own blood in her living room.
“The room’s clear, honey. You can lower the gun.” I tried to project calm. The last thing I needed was her shooting again. There’d already been enough noise to wake the dead.
Inferno spoke softly from behind me. “Knight’s running interference with 9-1-1, but the police will likely be here soon.”
“You hear that, baby? We need to get the hell outta Dodge.”
Her hands shook, the gun barrel trembling. She held it for a couple more seconds, before it finally clattered to the floor from her limp fingers. Diesel bent to pick up the gun slowly as Veda spun away from me. She staggered to the sink and vomited, her body heaving with each retch. I followed, standing behind her, and pulled her hair aside. I held it there without saying a word. She trembled under my touch as I rubbed her back up and down, trying to soothe her.
Inferno lingered in the doorway, took in the scene, then slid back into the hall. I heard the creak of the fire escape as he climbed out, probably to check the street below and call in someone to clean the mess. Diesel pulled a tarp from the backpack strapped to him and covered the guy Veda had shot. The guy from the hall was clearly dead, his neck bent at an impossible angle, likely Inferno’s work. Diesel pulled the body inside to lie with the first guy and covered him as well. The man with the broken elbow had finally passed out, his head lolling against his chest.
When Veda straightened and wiped her mouth, she still gripped the ledger and wore the laptop bag over her shoulder. She hadn’t dropped either one, even when she threw up. Her hand was streaked with blood from the cut on her palm, the bandage I’d put on it at the compound now hanging loose.
“I killed him,” she said, her voice hollow.
I nodded. “He would’ve killed me if you hadn’t. Or you.”
“I’ve never…” She shook her head, then glanced at the body on the floor. “Is he really dead?”
“Yeah, honey.”
“Don’t you need to check or something?” She looked up at me with wide, glassy eyes. I wanted to agree with her, apologize, then go make a pretense of checking, but the fact was, we didn’t have time.