Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
“We need a battle plan.”
Saint slipped out the door. The last thing he heard before it closed was Copper’s pounding boots and shouted, “Mount up!”
He threw a leg up and sailed onto his bike like a trick horse rider. Two seconds later, he peeled out of the lot while the rest of his club raced to their bikes, and Copper cursed him to hell and back.
Riding a motorcycle on mountain switchbacks was a skill he’d mastered after so many years of living in the Smoky Mountains. Saint took the sharp turns at a harrowing clip, burning rubber and sending a trail of smoke behind him.
His own safety never crossed his mind. All he could hear was Stillman’s warning echoing. ‘She doesn’t look too good.’
Every slam of his heart against his ribcage was a command.
Faster. Faster. Faster.
He obeyed, pushing the throttle to its limit.
Finally, he parked about half a mile away from the Sawmill, laying his bike down in the brush off the road so no one would see or hear him coming. Then he set off on foot, running as fast as he could in fucking jeans and boots in the middle of the summer.
After thirty seconds, sweat poured down his face, soaking into his T-shirt. The salt burned his eyes, but he didn’t give a fuck. All he could think of was getting to Beth and murdering Demo.
He slowed as he approached, moving off the road into the woods for the final trek in case they’d installed cameras at the old sawmill.
Each step brought him closer to Beth. Closer to wrapping his hands around Demo’s throat and feeling the cartilage crush beneath his fingers.
Someone latched onto the back of his T-shirt and yanked… hard.
“The fuck?” He whirled around, fists curled and up, blocking his face for the incoming attack. “Thunder? How the fuck are you here?”
Thunder smirked and wiggled his phone in Saint’s face. “Copper texted. Told me you went half-cocked. You know Mak and I live about a mile from here.”
Right. He hadn’t been thinking of anything but getting there.
“Whatever. I’m going in to get Beth.”
His brother-in-law’s smirk disappeared. “No, the fuck you’re not. Not until backup arrives. They’re about two minutes out on foot, like you.”
“I’m not waiting.” He gestured toward the sawmill. “Beth is in there, and I don’t know what they’re doing to her.”
Thunder grabbed his shoulders. “Look at me.” He shook Saint hard. “Look at me, asshole.”
He met Thunder’s gaze. “Mak was right. You love her, don’t you?”
“Yes.” He’d never hit his brother-in-law, but there was a first time for everything, and if he didn’t get the fuck out of Saint’s way, he’d take a punch to the face in the next ten seconds.
Thunder’s expression was dead serious. “Then wait two fucking minutes to give her the best chance to get out of there. You know going in alone is stupid.”
“Fuck.” Goddammit, Thunder was right.
Saint rubbed his arm. He wasn’t itchy or cold, but every nerve felt raw and on fire. “I’m crawling out of my skin, man. Never felt like this before.”
Thunder nodded. “Hope you never have to feel it again.” Thunder knew what it was to worry for his woman’s life. Years ago, Makenna almost died at the hands of their psychotic father. No doubt, Thunder would never forget the stark fear in the moments before he had Mak back in his arms.
The crunching of leaves had them both looking in the direction Saint came from.
“Cavalry has arrived,” Thunder said, slapping Saint’s back. “Let’s get your ol’ lady back.”
Ol’ lady.
Fuck, that sounded good.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
BETH’S SKULL CRACKED against the van’s metal wall for the third time, and she tasted blood. No seat belt. No seat. No way to brace herself as every turn catapulted her across the cargo hold like a rag doll. After slamming into the side of the van three times, she managed to brace herself, propping her back against the wall and using her feet to push against a ridge in the floor. Not a great system, but it kept her from violently flinging back and forth across the van.
The other challenge, besides keeping calm, was helping Melody.
The other woman groaned in pain, cradling her ribs. Every bump and turn made her cry out. After a few moments, she started to sob.
The van rolled to a stop.
Beth straightened off the wall, straining to hear. When the driver’s door didn’t open, she scrambled across the vehicle toward Melody, who lay sprawled in the center of the van. They’d either stopped at a light or hit some traffic.
“Come on, Mel,” she said as she slid her hands beneath Melody’s shoulders. “Let’s get you secured somehow.”
Beth’s abraded knees screamed as she kneeled on the unforgiving floor, tugging Melody toward a wall. It took more strength than she had, but inch by inch, she managed. Melody tried to help, bending her knees and pushing off the floor, but every movement made her cry harder.