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)
He’d have to figure something out. One problem at a time.
For now, Seth shoved the leather pouch under his arm and slipped out of the car.
It was a seemingly typical Sunday afternoon, quiet as sunlight filtered through the trees. A couple walked their dog. A few doors down, a man mowed his lawn.
Today, the quiet felt like its own kind of threat.
Seth didn’t hesitate. He crouched low to the ground as he cut through the neighbors’ yards, using trees and overgrown hedges for cover. Pounding heartbeats later, he advanced, darting for the old oak tree his dad had planted when Seth was five. Finally, he tucked himself behind the thick shrubs he and his brothers had hated trimming every summer.
After dragging in a ragged breath, Seth sprinted to the side of the house without sight lines to the front door and pressed his back against the cool vinyl siding. Then slowly, he inched to the front edge of the house and peeked around the corner.
The family room drapes were closed. Seth’s gut clenched. Grace Cooper opened those curtains every morning. She loved the natural light. So seeing them shut this early in the afternoon was like a neon sign flashing Danger.
Gene had done it purely to lock his loved ones in and to prevent Seth’s visual recon.
Fuck you.
Another glance up at the house. The bedroom curtains on the second floor were wide open. That meant Gene had the hostages on the main floor or the basement.
Time to test his hypothesis.
Crouching low, Seth scurried along the foundation toward the basement window, hoping for a clandestine peek inside.
As he neared the small window, it creaked open.
Shit.
With his heart thudding, he flattened himself against the siding again, hoping like fuck that his decision to leave his gun in LA to avoid the hassle with TSA didn’t cost everyone he loved their lives.
Seth froze as he waited to see who emerged, coiled and ready to pounce. If Gene stuck his head out, he’d have to attack quickly. Lethally.
He’d only get the element of surprise once.
But it wasn’t his nemesis whose head appeared in the opening. It was…
Beck?
The good doctor extended one arm with a grimace, frantically clawing at the grass as he struggled to pull himself out the tiny window.
Seth lunged forward, relief sweeping through him at the sight of his friend alive and fighting. He grabbed Beck’s arm and tugged him free.
With a groan of agony, Beck rolled onto his back. He was sweating and shockingly pale. Blood soaked his shirt.
Seth’s heart sputtered at the sight. “Fuck! You’re shot.”
Beck’s voice was tight. “Noticed that, huh?”
Despite his obvious pain, the surgeon’s sarcasm was unscathed.
“Hard not to.” Seth automatically checked the wound on his left shoulder. The entry point was ragged and ugly. As he started to ease Beck onto his right side, the doctor stopped him.
“There’s no exit. The bullet is still lodged inside me.”
“Did you escape?”
Beck scoffed. “The cocksucker locked me and Carl in the basement.”
So the able-bodied men couldn’t protect the women or put up a fight. Coward.
“And Heavenly? Is she okay?” Seth demanded. “Has Gene shot anyone else?”
Beck shook his head, his eyes sharp and focused “I haven’t heard any more gun shots. Yelling, but that’s it.”
More relief. But Seth didn’t dare relax as he pulled out his phone. “You need a hospital.”
Beck’s hand shot out and gripped Seth’s wrist. “I’m not leaving.”
“Damn it, Beck. You—”
“Will be fine. The bleeding has slowed. It hurts like a bitch, but I’m not gonna die. I’ll get patched up once we get everyone out.”
Seth didn’t bother trying to reason with Beck. He’d be wasting his breath. Besides, if the shoe was on the other foot, Seth wouldn’t budge either.
With a terse nod, Seth helped Beck sit up, propping him against the house behind a bush. “Tell me what happened. Where is Gene keeping everyone?”
“One minute Carl and I were watching football. The next, the son of a bitch clocked Carl with the butt of his gun. Knocked him out cold. He’s got a minor concussion. Then the asshole shot me, no fucking warning. He forced us down to the basement. Before that, Gene had everyone else pinned to the family room sofa.”
“Jesus.” Seth itched to kill the motherfucker.
“I’m worried about Hudson.” Beck’s brows furrowed.
Seth felt his stomach drop. “Is he hurt?”
“Not physically. But Gene forced the kid to drag Carl and me to the basement and take our phones. I’m sure Gene took all the others, too. But poor Hudson was freaked out. Kept whispering he was sorry. I told him it wasn’t his fault and to stay calm, not to give Gene any reason to shoot him, too.”
“How many guns does Gene have? What kind?”
“I only saw one. Looked like a Glock.”
Seth’s throat tightened. “How’s Carl?”
“His head hurts like hell. Minor concussion, but he came to about ten minutes ago. Helped me get to the window, but he couldn’t fit through.”