Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
I gulp and want to explain myself. But that’s just wrong, so I remain silent. Who is this man? I scan for an escape route and only see dilapidated buildings and torn-up asphalt. There’s nowhere for me to run.
“Stay here,” he orders and strides toward the last man he killed.
My legs wobble and I look around. Wait a minute. The bike! I can’t remember if he left the key in the ignition or not. If he did, I can escape on the motorcycle.
I run as fast as I can back to that hidden warehouse, dodging inside and scrambling for the vehicle. No key. My heart absolutely sinks. I have no idea how to hot-wire a motorcycle.
I look around for a weapon and spot what looks like a rusty old tire iron in the corner. It’s better than nothing. I scramble over garbage and a couple of torn, gray boxes to reach the makeshift weapon. The dirty metal is heavy and scratches my hands.
Then I hurry outside looking for Alexei, reaching the wrecked car and dead bodies. Even if I can reach a main road, we’re in the middle of nowhere. But I have to get away from him. I look up to see him walking toward the car with the body of the third man over his shoulder. He opens the back door and shoves the guy inside. What in the heck is he doing?
Turning to glare at me, he throws the rags inside and returns to the trunk where I can’t see him. It’s open, and the lid hides him, but smoke soon spirals from both sides. He must’ve taken the lighter from the smoker.
Now might be my only chance. So I turn and begin running in the opposite direction, my kitten heels sliding on the uneven ground.
He’s on me before I even know he’s coming. “You’re not going anywhere.” He snags the nape of my neck and yanks me to a stop. Heat flares up my esophagus, and I whirl, swinging the tire iron with all of my strength.
He grabs my wrist, but the end still hits his jacket with a satisfying thunk. “Damn it.” Wrenching the rusty weapon out of my hand, he drags me toward the now burning vehicle.
I uselessly try to punch him, but my fist glances off his jacket.
We reach the cinder block where I’d hit my heel. The one that had stopped me before.
“Knees,” he snaps.
I blink. What is he saying?
One sharp hand smacks the back of both of my knees, and I drop, more out of surprise than pain.
“Cross your ankles,” he snarls.
I do so, my mind spinning, knowing the vulnerable position will keep me from moving fast. Is he going to kill me, too? What had I been thinking taking this case?
Trying to free a killer? He might not have stabbed David Fairfax to death, but he certainly killed the three men in the now smoking car.
He releases me. “Move and you’ll fucking regret it.”
I watch his boots stride away.
Blinking away tears, I look up, remaining in place. More smoke begins to rise around the car. His face set in a grim mask, he walks to the passenger side of the vehicle and lifts the heavyset man back inside, flicking a silver lighter. It’s the one I saw the guy at the end of the road use to light a cigarette.
Alexei leans down. Soon more flames and smoke become visible. He walks around to the other side and lights the driver’s shirt on fire. Then he ducks between a couple of warehouses and returns with what looks like a bunch of dried leaves and grass that he throws in the back seat.
I’m frozen in place and can’t move. All I can do is watch. He ignores me, entering and emerging from several of the abandoned warehouses, and returning with more cardboard and discarded materials to throw on the front seat of the car, which is swiftly becoming engulfed in flames.
He almost too easily kicks open the doors to two more warehouses on my side. Smoke is billowing big black rolls into the sky, and he’s still not appeased. Finally, he exits one of the warehouses with two bottles in his hands, his expression intense. What are they?
My head and knees both hurt, and my temper is beginning to finally return.
The hood of the car has popped open, and he smiles, pointing the cans and squirting a liquid. Fire immediately roars from the engine. He tosses the two cans into the vehicle and then turns, stalking rapidly my way.
My stomach rolls over. I make a small sound of fear in my throat and hope he doesn’t hear it.
He wraps one hand around my bicep and pulls me to stand before yanking off his jacket. “Put this on.”
“No,” I say, my hands lifting to ward him off as I back away.