Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
I was hoping it would be him.
I walk over, gun in hand, ready, and bang on the door.
“Regg?” I squeak.
“What is it?” he grunts.
“I’m bleeding. Like bad. I think...I think it’s the baby. Call Gage. I need help. Please.”
My voice breaks, and even I’m proud of how convincing I sound.
“He’s on a ride.”
“Then can you help me? I need help.”
He grumbles, and I hear the keys. The deadbolt clicks. I sit on the edge of the bed, gun tucked down beside me, bent over. Regg opens the door and looks around before his eyes settle on me. He’s got a sandwich in his hand, and he looks less than impressed that he is in here.
“Let me see,” he says, stepping inside.
“I can’t get up,” I groan. “I need you to help me.”
“Fuck sake,” he mutters, coming closer.
The second he is close enough, I pull the gun out, slamming it into his stomach. His mouth forms a perfect O.
“Don’t yell,” I hiss.
He freezes, hands up. “Sneaky bitch. This is a bad idea.”
“All I want is to leave. You let me walk, no one gets shot.”
He stares at me. “You shoot me, the whole place comes down on you.”
“No one is here, you just admitted that.”
He curses under his breath. “Can’t just let you fuckin’ leave. You know that.”
“That sounds like a you problem. I’m walking out, you’re going to keep your mouth shut for a whole ten minutes, and then you tell Gage whatever the fuck you need to save your own ass.”
He shakes his head. “It won’t work, Sable...”
I shove the gun in harder. “We both know that I am more than willing to pull this fucking trigger.”
He growls. “Shit. Okay. Fuck.”
“Lie down. Hands behind your head.”
He obeys, lowering down onto the bed. I back toward the door, not losing sight of him. “Count to a hundred, then you can move.”
I open the door and check the hallway. Empty. I slide into the shadowy corridor and listen, nothing. I hurry. There’s a back exit, and I take it. Thankfully, the lot is quiet, and the only person around is a prospect guarding the exit. I point my gun at him, and he steps back, letting me out without argument.
He’s a fucking idiot anyway.
I rush off down the road, keeping the gun out, my head down, and my legs moving. I don’t have long before Gage is roaring towards the clubhouse, searching for me. I am only five minutes in when I hear it, the low rumble of a van, crawling slow behind me. I glance back and see a black van edging closer. Fuck. That isn’t good. I pick up into a run. The van speeds up. I try to spin, shooting at the wheels, but it is already beside me.
The side door opens, and a man launches out, crashing into me and sending me slamming down onto the ground. I fight, but I’m just flailing, my body burning. He shakes the gun from my hand, then jerks my arms behind my back and binds them before hauling me to my feet.
I’m cursing and yelling, but there is no point.
He tosses me into the back of the van where there are five other people.
I have no chance.
“What the fuck do you want?” I scream.
“Blood,” a man growls, before coming towards me with a needle as the van takes off.
“If this is about Gage, you’re making a mistake. He doesn’t give a crap about me.”
The man laughs. “Oh, but he does. I’m sure you remember us?”
I glance at them, confused. Then I see the familiar hands and tattoos. These are the men who tried to kill me and leave me for dead. My heart skips a beat, and vomit rises in my throat. This is bad. This is very fucking bad.
“As you can see,” I try to act calm. “You sucked the first time. I’m still alive.”
He hits me over the head, so hard my vision swims.
“Believe me, we won’t make that mistake again.”
The needle is plunged into my arm.
“Fuck you,” I spit, just as the world goes dark.
I think I just made a mistake.
A very big fucking mistake.
15
I wake in a stale, dark room. The faint scent of blood lingers in the air, and before my brain has even registered that I am awake, the memories come flashing back. The cartel took me. They were the ones behind it all along. Of course they were, and of course it linked back to Gage.
It always links back to Gage.
My eyes spring open and I stare around the room, pulse racing as I take in the space. Just like I’ve been taught. Concrete walls, no windows, and a blood-stained floor. A dull light hangs overhead, swinging back and forth as the rusty old fan on the wall rotates around the room.
I’m bound to a chair, hands pinned behind my back, ankles tied together. Everything in my body is numb and I wiggle my fingers and toes, letting the sensations slowly come back. First is the ache in my wrists, then the sharp tingle in my hands, then, finally, the taste of iron in my mouth. Blood—old, coppery, sticky on my tongue. I move my jaw, working it loose, jawbone creaking. I must have taken a hit at some point. The right side feels swollen, tender to the touch.