Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37638 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37638 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
The bus screeched to a halt, throwing me against the seat in front of me. The knife the guy had been holding against my side pressed harder, the sharp blade penetrating my clothing and scratching my skin. I had no idea how deep, but it made my panic worse, and I cried out in both fear and pain.
“What the fuck?” The guy turned his attention away from me. We weren’t at a rest stop or gas station. We were on the interstate. From the looks of things, we were still in the right lane of a three-lane road. Other passengers looked up from what they were doing, some of them raising their voices in surprise at the sudden stop.
The bus started moving again, but off to the shoulder of the road. I had no idea what was going on. Had we blown a tire? Was something wrong with the bus? Maybe I should try to get away here. Hide somewhere and call Winter.
No. I couldn’t call her. I’d call Rycks. He’d know what to do and could get me out of here. But how did I get away from this guy?
The door to the bus opened. The lights were out, and it was dark outside. A man growled something, and the overhead lights came on. More than one person complained loudly. I strained to see who was giving the orders. Because that growl sounded wonderfully, terribly familiar.
Heavy footfalls climbed the steps to the doorway inside the bus. There, larger than life, menacing in the extreme, was Brick. And he looked seriously pissed.
His gaze roamed over every single person on that bus, taking it all in. I knew he was memorizing each face he encountered and would remember everything he saw. Brick was brilliant like that. People often overlooked him -- even his own club -- because he was quiet and unassuming. Until it was time for him not to be. The club respected his brawn and unwavering loyalty. I knew there was much more to him than muscle.
During the time when he and the rest of his club, the Iron Tzars, had been in in Florida, I’d watched Brick intently. The club had come to help stop a human trafficking ring using group homes of orphaned and abandoned or otherwise unwanted children as their supply. I’d paid attention when the men had gathered around a table, poring over maps of the city and making their plans. Brick had led the discussion skillfully, planting suggestions in subtle dialogue until someone other than him came to a certain conclusion or laid out a certain plan. I suspected Sting knew exactly what Brick was doing, but let it happen. I didn’t know if it was because Brick didn’t want to be the center of attention, or if Sting was using Brick for his own ends, but I didn’t think Brick was the kind of man to let anyone use him unless he was willing to be used.
After a long minute or two, Brick’s gaze landed on me. He also took in the guy sitting next to me with a stare that should have sent the guy screaming straight to hell. The guy pulled me closer to him, the knife digging into my side even more sharply. I would have cried out, but I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. Besides, I absolutely would not give the bastard the satisfaction. He might have brought back memories I’d have nightmares about for months, but I’d been through hell before. This was nothing. Brick might not want me for a lover, but he would damn sure protect me.
“He hurt you?”
“Shut up, you bastard!” The guy dug the knife deeper into my side. I was so proud of myself for not flinching or whimpering like he obviously expected. I set my jaw and fixed my gaze on Brick.
“I’ll deal with you in a bit.” The expression on Brick’s face promised death. If the guy had been smart, he’d have pretended he didn’t know me. But no. He was either stupid enough not to realize Brick was out for blood, or he thought he had a shot at getting around Brick somehow. He might have a gun. It would make sense that he’d pull a knife on me instead of a gun on a crowded bus. A gunshot would be noticed. Not so much a knife wound if he could keep me quiet. I had no doubt the fucker was packing, though. Men like him always were. “Answer me, girl.”
“He has a knife in my side.” That got me poked even harder. I didn’t think he’d hit anything internal, but he’d definitely made a deep wound. I didn’t flinch. “Says he’s taking me back to the man who cut me and Winter.” My voice was quiet and calm, but firm. Brick would know how it terrified me to even think about those dark days in my life. He’d held me after several nightmares and flashbacks over the last few weeks since Winter had started her new life. The knife the man dug into my side cut into me even more. I could feel blood tracking down my side, soaking my clothes and probably the bus seat.