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)
And with that, Pat revved his engine, knowing there was a chance it was going to be the last time he saw his father alive.
Pat rode through the streets, going straight to the old abandoned farm that had started it all.
Maddie, Bull’s wife, had been the cause of them finding out the cartel was working on their land. Bull had shot Craig, Ranford’s brother. It was the cartel who took Craig and beheaded him while he was still alive. It had been a brutal ending, one that had set this course in motion. Pat couldn’t believe how they had gotten to this point. He parked his bike at the old abandoned farm he had set fire to what felt like months ago.
Everything had been cleaned out ages ago. The cages were gone. The guys had dealt with the bodies of the dead dogs that had been left in a pile to rot. These were the kind of pieces of shit they had to deal with. No respect for dogs, no respect for anything. It sickened Pat as he looked around, and then he grabbed both guns. His gut told him there was real danger around.
Pat slowly moved around the building. The ground was covered in a thick layer of ice, the cold building as the winter months started to close in. During his military time, he’d been through all kinds of weather—blistering hot, freezing cold, humid, dry, wet—he’d done it all, and without complaint.
Making his way toward where they had first met Craig Ranford, Pat came to a stop, as he saw the tent.
“Fucker!” Pat said.
He moved toward the tent, knowing Ranford wasn’t going to be inside. The man had known luxury, and of course he had lived on the streets as well. It was one of the reasons Ranford could adapt. They had underestimated the fucker.
Pat opened the tent, and it was not a large size, but enough to fit some personal belongings. There was a sleeping bag, a small blow-up bed, and some snack-like foods. Other than showing someone had been living here, there was nothing else to suggest this was Ranford.
Until he moved the bed, and there on the floor was all he needed. A single photograph showing Ranford and his brother. Pat picked it up and pulled out his cell phone.
Bull answered on the third ring.
“It’s Ranford. Grant was right all along. He was not to be trusted.” Pat felt angry for even allowing himself to trust that fucker. He moved away from the tent.
“Pat ... they’ve gone missing,” Bull said.
“What?”
“Ava and her family, they’re gone.”
Pat stopped. “How the fuck did you lose them?”
“I wasn’t there. Lidia woke up, and I went to the hospital. She confirmed it was Ranford. He told her he was sorry, and the next thing she knows, she is waking up at the hospital.”
“Why the fuck would Ava leave?” he asked. “What about Bernice?”
“The dog stayed.”
“Fuck!”
Pat spun in a circle as he tried to think. “Something made her leave.” He scrambled his brain. “The fabric store. It’s the only thing that would make her leave.”
He didn’t know for certain, but his gut was telling him if Hazel and Violet left as well, there was only one place they would go—the fabric store, the last legacy of their father.
****
Everything was happening so fast.
Ava frowned as pain seemed to explode behind her eyes, and she struggled to focus on anything.
Lauren was dead.
She had gone to Pat, not the police. She wanted Pat to kill the man responsible.
“Ah, so I see you’re awake.”
Ava tried not to react. She was inside her mother’s fabric store. How did she get here? She rolled onto her front and took a deep breath. That’s right, she got a phone call, or the clubhouse had gotten a phone call, and Ava, realizing it wasn’t getting answered, took the call.
The fabric store had been threatened. If she didn’t come and meet the person who had killed Lauren, he was going to burn her mother’s fabric store to the ground. Ava wasn’t entirely sure if she had come to see who had murdered Lauren, or to save her mother’s store.
Violet and her mom had seen her panic, and they joined her.
She couldn’t recall what happened after that. Only, she walked into the store and everything had gone black.
Lifting up, she saw her mother and sister, both tied to chairs, and they were soaking wet. Ava recognized the smell as gasoline. Whoever had done this had covered her family in gasoline, and they were in a fabric store.
Finally, the man in question stepped into her line of sight. The first thing she noticed was the cigarette dangling from his lips. “Hello, sunshine,” he said. “You know, the last time I saw you, I was pretty sure you had blonde hair.”
He reached out to tug on one of her raven curls. The dye was turning out to be a little more permanent.