Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
Situations like this are the whole reason Army joined the police department. Let him be useful.
But Macon interjects, “No.”
The line goes quiet, everyone else shutting up.
“It’s not a bad plan,” he tells me, “but it’s smart to sit on this for a day and see if we can find out more information before we decide how to proceed.”
I blink slowly, the blood pumping through my arms weighing a thousand pounds, even though I already know he’s right.
All of us are too happy to follow his orders because the Bay has survived, mostly due to his leadership.
And it takes the pressure off failing ourselves by not making any decisions.
But…
This is Ames’s doing, and I can’t sleep tonight if that motherfucker finds out I was run out of town and goes to bed with a smile.
Macon wants Iron safe, though. That’s what he’s not saying out loud, because he doesn’t want Iron’s defenses up.
He just got out of prison, and we’re finally together again as a family.
Fine, then.
Leaving the engine running, I take my phone, open the truck door, and jump out.
“Dallas!” Army barks, watching me in his rearview mirror.
I run to Trace’s car, just between Army and me, rain soaking my shirt. Keeping my eyes peeled, I yank open his door.
“Dallas, what the fuck!” he growls, peering up at me.
“Switch with me,” I tell him.
“Dallas!” I hear Macon growl over the phones.
I ignore him as Trace searches my face. “Why?”
Water drops down my face and arms, and I turn my cap backward before grabbing my little brother out of his damn car. I don’t have time for this.
I haul him out of the seat and climb in, throwing him his phone and placing mine in the holder.
“Keys are in it,” I tell him, gesturing to the truck behind me.
His mouth hangs open, and he throws up his hands like he’s confused, but I pull the door closed. Starting the engine, I turn on the brights, seeing Trace have a meltdown outside my window. “Shit!”
I pull out into the street, punch it into reverse, and speed backward, skidding to a halt at Macon’s truck. “I’ll distract them,” I say. “Wait for Army to hear it on his radio and then get home. I’ll be there later.”
“You better be,” he grits out.
Yeah, yeah…
“Dallas!” Iron tries to stop me, but my mind is made up.
Punching the gas, I race away, turning left onto the main street and honking my horn.
Of course they’ll catch Trace’s car on cameras, speeding past midnight, but I’ll dump it somewhere and say it was stolen.
The windshield wipers swipe back and forth, and I roll down the window to try to hear anything.
I hang up the phone, coasting past the art gallery and the Tradewinds spa, water sloshing under the tires.
Kicking it up into fourth gear, I see the black-and-white after it’s too late. My heart jumps in my chest, given the darkened cop car was hiding between two buildings. I pass and see the lights spinning brightly a moment later.
Fuck. I’ve actually never run from the police before. Claiming you didn’t know about a curfew when you really didn’t is feasible. Actively evading the cops is a serious fucking crime.
Turning up the music, I go for it, accelerating to fifth gear. Rain glints in the headlights, and another set of police lights appears in my rearview mirror.
Where is that asshole? Callum Ames really doesn’t know when he’s lost, does he?
How long has he been planning this?
I’ve got three cop cars now, minus my brother, in pursuit before I know it, and my brothers should be on their way home.
There’s no way Callum Ames is sleeping through this. I’d bet he has a cop on speed dial, getting minute-by-minute updates.
I turn to head back up to the hills, ditch the car, and strangle him in his fucking foyer, but I spot his vehicle.
Through the trees, beyond the gate to Marymount.
What the fuck is he doing at school?
I draw in a breath. The Ministry.
Are they meeting to watch all this go down?
I charge ahead, away from the campus, hitting top speed before downshifting and making a right, then another right. I roll over the empty sidewalk, into a bed of trees between two houses. Covered under the shield of darkness, I kill the engine and jump out of the car.
Slinking behind a tree-line fence, I spot the lights flashing as the cop cars speed down the street, not noticing Trace’s car buried in the brush.
Twisting my head left to right, I jog out of the neighborhood and back to the school. Entering the parking lot, I look around, seeing only Callum’s car, though. Overhead lights reflect on the wet pavement, and my T-shirt sticks to my torso as I gaze up at the windows.
My classroom light is on.
Digging out my keys, I run, kicking up water as I cross the parking lot. Halting at a side door, I unlock it, then dive inside and close it, jogging down the hallway, along the courtyard. I move my head slowly from left to right, noticing how every classroom door is closed and every room remains dark. Taking it slow, to gauge the threat, I walk down the corridor and up the stairs to my classroom. When I approach, I see that the light is on, but as the room comes into view, I see that it’s empty. Stepping inside, I take note of my desk, my laptop, and every book, prop, and cabinet seemingly undisturbed. I’m about to back out again, leaving the light on the way I found it, but I notice the Seneca and Nero statue is gone.