Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
The laundry van slows down and finally comes to a stop. Without looking, the driver bangs on the wall separating us from the front. Lightning unlatches the back door and pushes it open. We’re right near the garage where we stashed our bikes.
As Shadow pushes past me, I give him a nudge. “I can fucking take care of myself.”
“I know,” he says, then jumps out.
I roll my eyes, but go after him, then slam the door behind me before giving the back of the car a couple of whacks with the flat of my palm. The van takes off, leaving us alone in the city as it’s just starting to wake up.
The bikes are right where we left them, lined up in a single parking spot with a tarp thrown over them. The way we did it, it could be anything under there. At least I don't think anyone's first guess would be four motorcycles, instead of someone taking care of their sports car or some such shit. And no one's around. It’s almost too fucking quiet.
Thunder looks around, then nods. “Let's fucking do this.”
We get as far as pulling off the tarp when the door from the stairwell up to the higher floors slams open, revealing two cops in full riot gear with barrels pointed our way. And then it's like they're coming out of the fucking walls, from behind parked cars, behind the thick concrete posts that support the building, from fucking everywhere. We're surrounded.
“Freeze!” yells one of the closest ones, his assault rifle pointed right at us. “No sudden movements. Don't do anything stupid.”
We look at each other, slowly moving our hands so they are visible. “Easy,” whispers Shadow. “Not yet.”
Fuck.
The cop that seems to be in charge lowers his gun, trusting his people to keep us covered, then pulls up his mask. “We’re just looking to talk. Don’t give us trouble and we won’t return the favor. Got it?”
“So talk,” growls Shadow.
“Not here. My boss is waiting back at your little hideout with the girl.”
God. Fucking. Dammit. I knew she would cause more trouble.
“We can’t fucking trust them,” I hiss between my teeth, and Lightning nods. I never met a cop I liked. The best I got to say about them is that some of them are just uptight assholes, instead of complete fucking psychopaths.
“How do we know you’re not gonna lock us up or shoot as soon as we agree? Who’s your boss?”
“You don’t.” The cop's face is carved stone. “And if you don’t come with us, you’ll never find out, but you’ve got a chance to come out on top here. We’ll get your bikes back to the hotel and if you don’t do anything stupid, everyone stays happy.”
Happy? Ain’t nobody here happy.
“Do what he says.” Shadow’s voice is low, tight and fucking dangerous. I know the look on that face. If anyone so much as blinks, Shadow will break his fucking neck.
Riding back to the hotel in an unmarked car makes me miss the laundry van. He didn't lie about taking us back, at least. We pull up near the room and get herded towards the door like sheep. Did she fucking sell us out?
The cop knocks a quick pattern, then pushes the door open. There’s a man waiting for us with Harper along with a few more cops. He’s not wearing a uniform, but everything about him screams police. Harper's sitting on the bed she slept in, once again curled up against the headboard with her legs pulled close.
She looks up when we come in. “Hey.”
9
SHADOW
“Are you in charge? What the fuck's going on?” I demand.
His eyes widen a little, like he was expecting us to walk in with our tails between our legs. Fuck that. We're here and not in cuffs at a station, so he needs something from us. I’ll play ball if I have to, but I’m not going to whine or beg and he needs to know that right from the fucking jump.
I don't know if Harper called the cops or not, but if she did, I'm pretty sure she's regretting it now because she’s looking about as happy with them as she did with us when we first brought her here. I cross my arms over my chest and grab her attention. “You okay?”
She nods, looking nervous as fuck.
“Nathan Carnell,” the plain clothes cop says as he takes a seat at the desk. He'd almost seem casual if there weren't two cops in the room with us and more outside, all of them armed to the fucking teeth. “Special investigations unit. I hear you boys redecorated the Diamond Oasis.” He doesn't sound sad about it.
Lightning shrugs. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. Do we fucking look like we’re into interior design?”
“Huh. Must have been four other Screaming Eagles then. What a coincidence.” Carnell scratches his short, blond beard. His eyes are almost as richly blue as Harper's, but he’s a far sight from pretty. It looks like he ran into someone’s fist recently, with a bruised ring around his eye and a bandage around his shoulder that's peeking out of his collar. Guess we aren’t the only ones he’s pissed off recently. “Luckily, there was a lot of property damage but nobody got seriously hurt, or I’d have to look more closely at the security tapes. But since they didn't, I’ll just take your word for it and not drag you in for attempted murder.”