Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 119092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Then Em was on him from behind.
She attacked like a rabid ferret, arms tightening around his neck as she bit and scratched and kicked. He lurched forward and I joined in, grabbing the second chair and swinging it at his knees. He gave a high scream as he pitched forward off the porch, Em riding him down into the dirt. I jumped after them, landing between his legs and kicking him in the crotch over and over again. Hopefully there wouldn’t be any little Skidlets in his future to carry on the family legacy.
Skid screamed like a baby the whole time.
And Em? I couldn’t tell if she was laughing or crying.
Ten minutes later, we’d handcuffed Skid’s bruised, bleeding body to a porch pillar. He’d passed out from the pain, which was probably a good thing. I didn’t want to look into his evil eyes or listen to whatever bullshit he might spew.
Now I sat in one of the porch chairs, his confiscated gun carefully braced against my leg, cocked and ready to shoot. I didn’t want to kill him, but I’d do it if I had to. I didn’t doubt that for a second.
Em hobbled out of the house, her leg bandaged in strips of sheet from the bedroom. Thankfully, the bullet had just lightly grazed her thigh. Still, her face was white and drawn from the pain.
Despite it all, she managed a small smile, holding up a cell phone in triumph.
“Dumbass has Google maps installed,” she said. “I know exactly where we are. I’m calling Dad to come and get us.”
She dialed.
“Hey, Dad? It’s me. We’re okay. Could use a ride, though.”
Her eyes flickered toward Skid as Picnic’s muffled voice burst out of the phone.
“No, it’s all good,” she answered. “But you might want to bring the van. We may need some cargo space.”
She gave them directions and hung up.
“They’ll be here in about twenty minutes,” Em told me. “They sounded pretty happy to hear from us.”
“Was Hunter with them?” I asked. As soon as the question left my mouth, I regretted it. Did I really want the answer? Em swallowed and looked away.
“No,” she said. “The meet was already over. I guess we missed him by maybe five minutes. He’s got good luck.”
I raised a brow, but kept my mouth shut. Em dropped the phone to the ground, then stomped on it, and I heard the crunch of glass and plastic.
“What the hell?” I asked, startled. “Why’d you do that?”
“GPS,” she said shortly. “I don’t want the Devil’s Jacks tracing us with it, and we can’t leave it here.”
“What if we need it again?”
“We won’t,” she said. “Dad and Ruger will find us. Don’t worry. By tomorrow it’ll be like this never happened. In fact, I don’t want to talk about it and I don’t want to think about it. Got me?”
“Got you,” I said, narrowing my eyes. Em grabbed the second chair and dragged it over toward me, sitting down.
“Want me to take the gun for a while?”
“Thanks,” I said, handing it over. It was surprisingly heavy, and after the first few minutes my hand had started cramping. I stretched my fingers, looking out across the long gravel driveway into the trees.
“No offense,” I said slowly. “But that was the shittiest girls’ night out ever.”
Em gave a short, startled snort of laughter.
“Ya think?”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
RUGER
They crested the small rise overlooking the house and Picnic slowed, raising a hand for the others to stop.
Ruger pulled up next to him.
Holy fuck.
“That’s my girl,” Picnic said, his voice full of pride. “Goddamn, did something right with her.”
“Both our girls,” Ruger muttered. He felt his chest unclenching, a ball of tension he hadn’t even realized was there letting go. “Shit, didn’t know she had it in her.”
Em and Sophie sat on the front porch like two neighbors visiting over sweet tea, except Em held a gun trained steady on Skid. His mangled, bloody form lay in the dirt, arms stretched up behind him and wrapped around the porch pole.
“Think she killed him?” Ruger asked.
“Hope not,” Picnic replied. “Bad enough already, without her having to live with that. Not to mention messy as fuck for us to clean up.”
“That’s the truth,” Ruger replied.
“It’s Dad, we’re here for you!” Picnic yelled down, waving at her. Em kept her eyes on Skid and her gun didn’t waver.
“Glad you came,” she called back. “I could really use some help.”
“He the only one?” Pic asked.
“Hunter left a couple hours ago,” she shouted. “It was only the two of them.”
They rode slowly down the hill toward the house. Ruger studied Sophie carefully as he parked his bike, but he couldn’t see any signs of serious harm. She looked exhausted, her eyes darkened with smudged makeup, but that was all. Em seemed worse off—her face was pale and a bruise was starting to form on her cheek. White, bloodied strips of fabric had been tied around her leg.