Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Rip, Bud, and Grant were taking the heat. He kicked in the door and aimed his weapon, firing at one of the guys. He didn’t go for the kill shot. Another guy was there, and he shot at him, then spotted another taking off out the back. He was tall, muscular, but slow.
Pat was able to get to him, take him to the ground, and the guy had a knife, trying to jam it into part of his body. He blocked the knife, aiming for his gut, with a grunt. He couldn’t fucking believe this. They ended up rolling over, until finally Pat threw a punch without holding anything back, and he was sure something cracked.
“Ouch, fuck me, that looked like it hurt,” Grant said.
While he’d been tackling the guy on the ground, Grant, Rip, and Bud had contained the other men they had shot. The man beneath him screamed, and it was a fucking ear-piercing sound that grated on his nerves.
The man keeled over in pain and wasn’t going anywhere, so Pat got to his feet. Nudging him with his boot, the man rolled over, however, within seconds he was suddenly pointing a gun at Pat. Only, he didn’t get to shoot, because Grant had already fired his gun, sending a bullet into the man’s hand.
Pat turned toward his club brother and nodded at him. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Gone was the playful asshole Grant portrayed, and standing before him was a man who had his back. There had been a few times he did wonder if Grant would have his back, or allow him to die.
The man on the ground drew his attention and Pat reached for him, and lifted him off the ground. He was not a small man by any means, and he stared at him. “You know who we are,” Pat said.
“They told me ... they would ... it ... ugh, you shot me, and I ... can’t breathe.” The man started to cry, and Pat couldn’t believe it.
“What’s your name?” Pat asked.
“Tommy.”
“We don’t give a fuck about his name!” Grant said.
“Who came?” Pat asked.
“They said I didn’t have a choice. I had to do it, if I didn’t ... they’d kill my family,” Tommy said.
“The cartel?”
Tommy went to open his mouth, only he didn’t get the chance as within the next second, a bullet came whizzing through the air and landed square between the man’s eyes.
Pat dropped him and took cover, screaming at the men to do the same. That was a professional hit. Pat had seen that happen several times before, and he knew there were only a few people in the world that could make that kind of shot.
Crouched down behind some of the used and trashed pieces of cars, he looked toward Grant, who was a little too exposed for Pat’s liking.
Usually, that kind of hit got the job done. However, if the guy had been told to take out any of the Chaos and Carnage MC, then they were truly fucked.
Pat looked around him, and he saw the small piece of mirror left in one of the side wing mirrors. Extracting it, he used it to look around the building, to see where the bullet could have come from.
He’d been holding Tommy, and the bullet had come from the front, which meant Pat had his back to the sniper. There were only a couple of empty buildings behind him, and as he looked through the mirror, he saw the glint of a gun.
With Fall deep in their midst, the sun had been hit-or-miss. However, today, even though it was cold as fuck, the sun was out as if mocking them, as it wasn’t warming their asses up. Most of the frost on the ground hadn’t even thawed.
Seeing where the gunman was, Pat knew he could get to that space.
“Stay here,” he said, looking to Grant. Rip and Bud also acknowledged they had heard.
Pat crawled around the cars, being careful not to draw attention. The guy had to be ex-military. His position on the roof of the building across from them, which was an old abandoned factory, spoke volumes of military training, or training of some kind. Once he was clear, he found a break in the fence, probably made by kids or teenagers, thinking it would be cool to break into another man’s property. He took off across the street, and he knew the moment the sniper saw him, as a couple of bullets came rushing toward him, but Pat didn’t hesitate. He was across the road and crashing into the building within a matter of seconds. The elevator in the old building was dead, and Pat saw the boot prints.
Without any doubt, he followed that path, knowing there was no chance for the sniper to escape unless there was an exit off the roof. His heart raced.