Total pages in book: 188
Estimated words: 182255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 911(@200wpm)___ 729(@250wpm)___ 608(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 911(@200wpm)___ 729(@250wpm)___ 608(@300wpm)
Heavenly tried to process what she was seeing, tried to make sense of the Coopers’ oldest family friend pointing a weapon at Seth’s loved ones. She couldn’t. Instead, she tried to scream, but she only gaped, fear flooding her veins.
“Gene?” Grace sounded confused, her warbled voice detailing her struggle to reconcile what she was seeing with the man she’d known for decades.
“What the fuck?” Hudson shouted, scrambling back against the couch cushion.
Gene ignored them both, his face cold. Deadly. Unwavering.
Carl and Beck stiffened and turned—but it was too late. Gene moved fast, swinging the butt of the gun viciously down onto Carl’s head.
The crack was sickening.
The big, burly man dropped like a stone, his body crumpling, his head hitting the hardwoods with a horrible thud as blood ran down his temple. He didn’t get back up. Didn’t move.
Heavenly yelped, her heart lurching. Fear gripped her belly, stole her breath. Was Carl even alive?
Grace screamed, her worried stare clinging to her new husband as she jumped from the sofa and raced toward him.
“Sit down, Grace!” Gene snarled. “You can’t help him now. None of you can.”
Then, without warning, he swung the gun straight toward Beck. Heavenly watched as if in slow motion. Her eyes widened. A warning buzzed through her head.
Before she could spit out the words, Gene fired.
The deafening sound shattered the once cozy home.
Heavenly flinched, her whole body jerking. Her phone fell from her numb fingers, clattering to the floor. Her ears rang. And her world tilted as Beck cried out and stumbled back, gripping a gaping wound at his shoulder.
As the football game droned on in horrific normalcy, blood oozed from between his fingers and bloomed across his shirt—dark, wet, unmistakable.
“Beck!” Heavenly screamed, instinctively lurching forward.
“No!” Hudson roared at the same time, his voice cracking with horror.
“Don’t move,” Gene snapped as he pointed the weapon directly at them.
She froze. Beside her, Hudson did the same.
Heavenly gaped, barely comprehending. Gene—Gene—had a gun. He’d just knocked Carl unconscious. He’d shot Beck. He was pointing the weapon at her now, at Grace, at Hudson.
This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real.
But the blood was real. The sound still ringing in her ears was real.
She blinked at Beck, trying to fight off her shock. His face twisted with both rage and pain, but he shook his head at her. Don’t help him. Don’t be foolishly brave.
What did he expect her to do? She couldn’t stand here and just watch him bleed.
Beside her, Hudson grabbed her elbow. For support? The kid must be terrified.
Then she realized he was holding her back.
Gene raised a brow at Beck, the gun steady in his practiced hand. “If you try anything, I’ll blow your bitch’s fucking head off. And we both know how much you’d hate that.”
Beck’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t move. Didn’t make a sound.
Beside Hudson, Grace started hyperventilating, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps.
Hudson took her hand. “Grandma. Grandma, shh. Squeeze my hand. Just like that…”
“Now that I have your attention…” Gene’s hard voice boomed through the living room. “I suggest you keep your fucking mouths shut and follow my instructions very carefully if you want to live. Saint Seth is going to try to save you soon. When he does, I’ll be ready.”
Heavenly’s chest buckled. Her stomach flipped. Seth! He’d gone on an errand—and if she couldn’t warn him, he’d walk right into an ambush.
Thoughts racing, she scanned the room for her phone, but when she’d dropped it, the device had skittered out of reach. She had no idea how to warn him, but she had to come up with something—or they’d all be dead.
Heart thundering in his chest, Seth risked another glance over his shoulder—and finally saw his attacker.
Recognition hit him like a fist to the gut.
Another cop from the precinct.
Bob Ellis.
Seth had known the old-timer most of his life. He’d attended Michael Cooper’s funeral, sitting red-eyed with the rest of the guys. He’d been one of Gene’s fishing buddies for decades.
And one of Gene’s thugs.
Bob’s face was tight with determination. With murder. He didn’t speak. Didn’t warn. Didn’t even try to negotiate.
Seth was pretty fucking sure that Gene had sent him. And told Bob to silence him…one way or another.
Thank god, he hadn’t called 911. He’d be surrounded by more cops on Gene’s payroll, ready to finish what Bob was doing his best to start.
A glint of something metallic caught Seth’s gaze. He caught sight of the weapon in Bob’s hand. It wasn’t his police-issue weapon, a less-than-legal street piece, or even a shotgun.
It was something Seth hadn’t expected.
A dart-style tranquilizer gun.
Understanding slammed through Seth’s brain pan. Gene didn’t want him dead…yet. The bastard wanted him incapacitated. Contained. Then…yeah, after enough torture to suit Specter’s anger and bloodlust, Gene would off him.
Seth refused to give the motherfucker the satisfaction.
Teeth bared, Bob fired.