Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 77961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“True. I see what you mean. But I think the right girl would probably be okay with it. In the right circumstances.”
“Like not being held in a cold cement cell?”
“For starters.” I close my eyes and snuggle into Shrapnel’s side.
“I’m going to hold you to it when we get out of here.”
“When, not if?”
“When. I’ve got a girl waiting for me. I can’t disappoint her.”
A single tear slips out. I believe him, I really do. Whoever took us probably needs me, but it seems so unfair that I met the three of them like this. That they made me care so much, and someone is trying to take it away before we can even figure out where this is going.
A key rattles in the lock and the door squeaks open. Three big guys in suits come in. They all look the same, high and tight haircuts, shades and wearing black leather gloves. Their uniform basically screams villain henchman. Then again, that pretty much describes Mason and Tim. Described, at least for Mason. An involuntary shudder shakes me. He betrayed us, and no matter how horrible, I think Shrapnel did the necessary thing, but I still feel bad for him. I knew him for a long time. I don’t know what tipped him over, and now I guess I might never know. Money?
Two of the suits approach, drawing knives. My heart stops in my chest as they crouch next to us. Does it end here?
“If you fucking cut me…” Shrapnel growls so viciously his guy backs up a moment, like he has to check if Shrapnel's actually still tied down before he dares come back. But when they cut, it's just the ropes around our ankles.
“Get up,” says the third henchman. We get pulled to our feet whether we want to or not. Shrapnel tries to shake off the grip of the guy supporting him, but with his arms tied, he doesn't have the leverage.
“What are you planning to do with us?”
“My orders are just to bring you to my boss. Anything else is up to her. Follow me.” Her? It's a woman? I didn't expect that, but why not?
“Both of us?”
He shrugs. “Not necessarily.”
“Let Shrapnel go. You're not getting anything out of me if you hurt him. Let him leave, and I'll do whatever you want.” I try to push forward to get the guy to at least look at me, but I'm not strong enough. “I'll cooperate if you do.”
“Rory! No. Jesus fuck, you need someone with you.” Shrapnel tries to break free again, and for a moment he does, before his guard whacks the side of his head, knocking him sideways. With his arms tied, he has no way to protect or catch himself. I cry out as he hits the floor hard, into a roll over his shoulder. There's a trickle of blood from his forehead. He spits at the floor. “Untie me and try that again, motherfucker.”
The guy on me grabs me by my upper arms and basically carries me into a large garage. There's one of the black SUVs there, waiting for us. A moment later, Shrapnel's out too, back on his feet and surrounded.
Finally their leader turns, pulling off his shades. In another life, he could've been handsome, but the expression of pure disdain as he looks at us gives me chills. “Yeah? His life for your cooperation? What, your father's life isn’t good enough?”
As cool as I try to play it, I can't help sucking in a sharp breath at that. So they do have him? Or at least they want me to think so. “Dad and I never got along, and he knew what he was getting into when he started the Hermes project. Shrapnel doesn't know anything. You don't need him. I mean, look at him. He's just my bodyguard. I don't want someone to die on my behalf, just because he's doing his job.” I hope Shrapnel understands that I'm just trying to protect him, and the farther that dongle gets from my laptop, the better.
Shrapnel’s eyes are furious. “Rory, don't be stupid.”
I pretend not to hear him. “His life for my cooperation. I promise. Just let him go. He's not involved.”
“It’s your lucky day. The boss wants you, but she doesn’t give a shit about the bikers.”
“So let him go then. Sounds like it's in your power.”
“Rory!” Shrapnel's furious. “We're not fucking doing this.”
A couple more of the henchmen come running over to help keep him under control. The lead one smirks. “Sure. You get in the car peacefully and come with us, and the scumbag gets to walk away. You have my word.”
“Rory!” Shrapnel growls.
“Take him outside.”
The garage opens up, and three of the goons perp walk Shrapnel out the front. “Don't fucking do this,” he yells over his shoulder, and I really don't want to. I'm already feeling so alone, but if I can at least save his life, then that's something. The only alternative I can imagine is much, much worse. I don't want anyone else’s life on my conscience.