Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 76881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“Fuck,” he whispers. “Where the fuck are they?”
“Sounds like the whole MC,” I whisper back. Who knows, maybe I'm even right. I don't know how many they brought with them.
He pulls me with him, behind the steamer towards the other end, in the shadows between it and the wall. It puts us right next to the vent release, but as long as he's paying attention, I don't have a chance to test my theory. And what do I do if it doesn't work?
There's a sound to our left, then one that sounds like it's all the way at the opposite end of the hall. It makes me almost as jittery as it does Fabbri, even though I know they're friendly. In the middle of the darkness like this, everything is a little scary. And what if we actually manage to catch one of them off guard? They outnumber Fabbri, but he's dangerous until they get him.
Like fate read my mind and decided to kick me in my lady bits, a shadow moves ahead of us. Fabbri stiffens, then laughs softly.
“If you shoot, they'll all know where you are,” I whisper, just a little louder than necessary, hoping that one of the guys will catch it.
“Shut up,” he hisses back and aims.
It's now or never. Reaching out, I twist the valve as hard as I can and duck.
“What the—?”
A sad poof of pressurized air escapes the valve. So much for that.
“Put your gun down,” demands Crank's furious voice. The shadow has turned towards the sound and as it comes closer, it just keeps getting bigger and bigger. It's easy to forget how huge Crank is until you have him coming your way threateningly. “I'm not fucking asking twice.”
I try to run.
But not fast enough. Fabbri gets his hand on my collar and makes a fist, yanking me right back against him. “Where the fuck do you think you're going?” he snarls.
Good news, the guys definitely know where we are now. Bad news, Fabbri now has his gun pressed hard enough into the spot behind my ear that I think it's going to bruise.
“If you hurt her, we're going make your death as fucking painful as we can.” Crank emerges from the shadow, still huge, but now I can see his actual face. Holy crap, he’s angry. I've gotten so used to him joking around with me that it shocks me. Those deep blue eyes aren't sparkling with fun, they're promising certain and horrific death. If it was me he was looking at like that, I'd break down and cry immediately. Even Fabbri looks uncomfortable.
And then two more shadows resolve into Savage and Poe, looking every bit as deadly. Like a triad of avenging angels, awesome and terrible.
“Fuck,” Fabbri snaps then starts pulling me back with him, in the direction of the loading dock. “Stay back, or I'm going to ventilate your girlfriend. I've got nothing left to lose.”
With his arm settled around my neck, there isn't much I can do except follow. And then the guys follow us.
It's the slowest chase ever. Fabbri backing up, me stumbling backwards to keep up and the guys keeping pace with us, all their guns trained on Fabbri's head, but not getting any closer. There has to be a way out of this. Some way to distract Fabbri long enough to… to do something. If I really am Savage's kitten, then I should have four or five lives left still, right?
The distraction turns out to be the sound of a motorcycle. Of a lot of motorcycles, the rumble coming closer and closer until it's impossible to ignore. Fabbri looks back over his shoulder, and his grip on my throat loosens just a hair. Hopefully enough.
I kick my heel up behind me, and from the pained groan, it's a direct hit. I drop, just as Fabbri's gun goes off, the bullet so close I feel a hot streak along my right cheek that burns like fire. But he loses his grip, and I continue dropping to the floor, screaming in pain all the way. Three guns go off, over and over, actually walking Fabbri backwards towards the edge of the loading dock, where a final shot that knocks his head back sends him tumbling. He lands in a laundry cart under the ramp, blood quickly seeping from his corpse and into the white cloth beneath him.
I blink, not quite believing it's over.
Crank reaches me first, sweeping me up in his arms and clutching me tight. The side of my face still burns, and I feel blood running down my neck, but right now I don't care. Nothing matters anymore except pressing myself against him and hearing the heartbeat inside his broad chest, slowing now that he knows I'm safe. And then Savage is there, and Poe, and they're touching me and squeezing me and making sure I'm okay. It's both overwhelming and wonderful.