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)
“In the car.” The lead guy points me to the back of the SUV. From one prison to another.
“I want proof he's released.”
My captor laughs. “Your negotiation is done, bitch. No adding clauses at the last second. Be glad I’m throwing him out of my garage instead of putting him down and burying him behind it. Now, come on. Get in the car.” He points emphatically.
Not much choice. I can only pray this guy's word is worth something.
We pull out as soon as the door shuts, barely giving me time to drop into the seat. I press my face against the window, trying to see Shrapnel one last time. I'm pretty sure that once they realize what I've done, they're not going to keep me around for very long either.
30
SHRAPNEL
The SUV drives off with Rory in it, and I'm so fucking pissed at her. If I survive this, I'm gonna give her a goddamn piece of my mind. But I'm guessing my odds aren't looking all that fucking great.
The goons have let go of me, but my wrists are still tied and they're not making any move to change that. Not surprised. Really, the only surprise is Rory thinking that these fuckers would keep their word. Maybe she figured it was a better chance than definitely dead in there, which is fair, but the idea that these guys might let me go at all is naive at best. Well, at least I’m outside and get to appreciate the setting sun one last time.
I turn to face the goons, walking backwards. “So, no chance you boys were actually planning to keep your word, is there? Maybe go grab a burger and laugh at this whole thing? Do each other's hair?”
“Your girl might be real dumb, but I'm glad you see how it is.” This guy's about as generic as the others, except his high and tight is copper red, and he's got to be at least a size and a half bigger than the rest.
“Yeah. I figured. Guess I should thank you.”
The big guy cracks his knuckles. “Thank me? For what?”
“Letting her live on in ignorance. I don't know what your bosses have in mind for her, but I'm guessing she's not coming over for crumpets and tea. At least now she can believe that she saved me.” I shrug my shoulders. “Any chance of making it quick?”
The big guy laughs. “No, I don't think so. I got nowhere I need to be. We’re going to make this hurt.”
“Yeah, alright. Kind of what I figured.” I throw myself at him, charging head first, digging my skull right into his gut at a full run. A sharp pain shoots down my neck and onto my back, but he grunts, surprised and breathless. He tumbles backwards, breaking my fall as he tries to wrap his big arms around me. Much as I'd fucking love a hug, he's not my type, so I twist sideways, just getting out from under his sweep and onto the asphalt.
Fucking ow.
What I wouldn't give for free hands to catch myself with. Using my momentum, I keep rolling right up into a crouch. The big guy's slowly getting to his feet, but they sure as fuck weren't taking any chances.
“Five guys, just for little old me? I guess the Screaming Eagles' reputation precedes me. Who's next?” I spit at them. “I can fucking do this all day.”
They rush me all at once. Maybe one day I'll learn to keep my damn mouth shut. I get my leg into one, tripping him. He goes ass up into a ditch next to the garage. Then I get a fist to the face, a proper meat slab of a punch. My nose cracks audibly, and I go flying backwards, spraying blood in the air behind me.
Motherfucker, that hurt. This time, when I spit, it's all red. The next hit, I don't dodge nearly as cleverly, and I get stuck on my back instead of rolling onto my feet. I throw myself to the side, just in time to get a boot to my ribs, so hard it fucking flips me over.
I struggle to my feet and let the crazy shine through in my bloody smile. “Bunch of fucking pussies. Take my rope off if you’ve got actual balls.”
The fist to my stomach says that they probably won't. Figures.
Wheezing as I catch my breath, I drop to my knees. Fuck. Of all the ways I thought I might die, getting my ass kicked by a group of corporate goons wasn't how I saw it going. I’d much rather go out in a blaze of fire as I ride my motorcycle off a cliff. Maybe some fireworks in the background.
A boot connects with my face, knocking me backwards, and rattling that dream right outta my head. Fuck, fuck, fuck.