Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 61149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
“Idontknow,” he defeatedly murmurs as we successfully shift me into a sitting position. “But we’re gonna fuckin’ find her, Kid.” His eyes firmly lock onto mine. “We’re gonna save her.”
“Swear?”
“Swear.” One hand runs along my spine for support. “He’s not taking her away from us.” Nolan’s glare bores deeper into mine in tandem with his palm stiffening. “He’s not fuckin’ leaving our town alive.”
There’s no hesitation to nod in agreement.
This shit ends tonight.
By any means necessary.
“First shit first.” He tips his chin in my direction. “Diagnostic report?”
Appreciation over his choice of wording pulls the corners of my lips completely upward in spite of the agony. “Operable.”
“Good.” My boyfriend rises to his feet and immediately extends his hand out for me to take. “I wanna keep it that way.” Transitioning from sitting to standing is accompanied by uncomfortable grumbles and huffs and groans, all of which prompt him to mirthfully point out, “You sound like a ‘95 Buick.”
“You would too if you got fuckin’ tased on the NOS setting.”
“That fuckface tased you?!”
“I take it he didn’t tase you?” Giving the contact site a small touch results in a giant hiss. “Fuck!” I bunch up the edge of my shirt to reveal the two marks from where the device latched into me. “Did that shit burn me?!”
Nolan hunches forward to better examine the injury. “Pretty bad.” He takes over holding my clothing during his continued assessment. “We need to get this cleaned. ASAP.”
“We need to find Bunny.”
“We don’t need this shit to get infected.”
“We need to find our girl!”
“And we need you alive to fucking do that!”
Another huff of irritation is followed by me snatching my shirt out of his grasp. “Fine.”
“Come on, Rambo.” My boyfriend clamps his hand lovingly around the back of my scraped-up neck. “We’ll make it quick. I’ve got a first-aid kit in the truck.”
Against my own volition, an amused grunt escapes.
Shit.
Now is not the time for laughing.
Or flirting.
Or fucking bandages.
Our girlfriend is missing.
Our pregnant girlfriend is fucking missing.
Our pregnant girlfriend is fucking missing and being hunted by a psychopath!
Fuck my injuries!
Fuck my possible broken rib!
Fuck everything else that isn’t finding and rescuing her!
“Kid,” Nolan calls to me alongside a hard squeeze, “we’re gonna go save her.”
“Then fuck the first aid kit!”
“K-”
“Fuck getting me cleaned up!”
“K-”
“Fuck everything!” Removing myself from his hold swiftly occurs again. “Let’s get the fuck out there! Let’s go fucking looking! Searching! Hunting!” One finger jabs the direction I’m fairly certain they went. “Let’s get outta fucking park and start driving!”
“We will,” he states in a voice much too calm for my liking. “Right after we clean you up.”
“We need to save her!”
“Saving her doesn’t mean sacrificing you.” My mouth twitches in objection only to be bluntly cut off. “Now, shut up, and wait here while I get the kit.”
Thrusting myself backward onto the driver’s side door of his truck accidentally knocks the wind out of me.
Cargodsshowalittlemercy.
It’s bad enough I don’t know where Bunny is.
That I didn’t keep my word.
That I didn’t protect her.
Them.
I failed.
I epically failed.
Because of me…because I left her side…left her unprotected…she’s out there somewhere fighting for her life – their lives – all alone.
What if something’s already happened to her?
What if she’s somewhere bleeding and pleading and crying out for us?
What if she’s dying?
Dread rolls around the pit of my stomach as my eyes are forced shut by an even darker thought.
What if she’s already dead?
Tears bind together in my throat, creating a knot of fear and horror that’s not only impossible to swallow, but stops me from being able to get the tiniest amount of air into my lungs. Deep gasps precede heavy pounds to my chest as anxiety and apprehension mutate into an unstoppable weight determined to park themselves permanently right on top of my airway.
She can’t die.
I can’t lose her too.
I don’t wanna lose her.
I don’t wanna lose our family.
“Kid,” Nolan airily croaks, dropping the small, black emergency bag near our feet in order to cup both sides of my face, “look at me.”
I can’t stop my head from rapidly shaking.
Knees from knocking together.
Body from threatening to collapse.
“You gotta breathe, Kid,” he desperately demands. “You gotta stay awake.”
“Wh-wh,” leaves me in airy whine, words too painful to complete outside my own mind.
“Fuck that,” the man I can’t live without grumbles and grips my face tighter. “Get focused.” He boldly invades my space. “We gotta get to Rabbit and our baby boy.”
There’s no stopping my eyebrows from darting down. “But what if they’re-”
“They’re not.”
“But-”
“They’re. Not.”
“How do you know!?”
“Because we’d feel it here.” He firmly pats me on top of my heart. “Right. Fucking. Here.”
To my surprise, the trembling in my jaw doesn’t stop me from eagerly nodding.
He’s right.
Again.
We’d…know…if they were…gone.
It’s just one of those things we’d feel.
Like when your car suddenly just “drives” differently.
You can’t quite put it into words, but you know that it is.