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)
“No fucking idea, doesn't fucking matter.” Shadow takes advantage of the cover to pull out a knife and slice Harper free. She slumps down, ripping out her gag and gasping for air. The shooting seems to be over, but with our luck, Mesner's men are out there waiting to pick us off. Or maybe Carnell’s. Fuck, why not both?
The loud rumble of the helicopter passes right over our heads again, shaking the whole fucking place and kicking up dirt. We huddle low, hoping the fuckers didn't see us. Whoever it is, they can’t be trusted. The sound recedes as the helicopter moves on.
“Okay. Go quick, get inside and don't give ‘em anything easy to aim at.” Shadow gives us a chance to nod our agreement, and then we run across the construction site, exposing ourselves as we cross the open lot.
For the first time all day, something goes right. Either everyone’s packed it in and gone home, or they’re too busy killing each other to notice us. No shots are fired, no alarms raised. On a day like this, that's a fucking blessing.
Outlaw groans.
“Hang in there, you dumb fuck,” my twin growls. He must really be worried, because normally that level of annoyance is saved for me. “If we all make it through this I’m fucking kick your ass.”
“Follow me,” Shadow says, leading us deeper into the forest of metal girders, half-finished concrete walls and scaffolding.
There’s an industrial looking door with a couple metal chairs set up outside it and a jar half filled with water and cigarette butts. He pushes it open, and using our phones for light, we see a big, unfinished room that looks like they are using it as a break room and to store random tools. There’s a couple temporary metal lights strung up, and thank fucking God someone’s still paying the power bill because they actually work.
“Hold Outlaw.” I make sure Thunder's got him, then jam the door closed with the back of a chair shoved under the handle. Safe, for now. Or maybe trapped, but it’s a chance we gotta take.
Harper’s eyes are fixed on Outlaw, her face white as a sheet. “He got shot. He’s bleeding,” she whispers.
“Yeah, baby. That happens sometimes when people point a gun at you. Why don’t you look around and see if there are any supplies in here. Anything that might be useful.”
My heart fucking bleeds for her. The first time you see someone get stabbed or shot is a real fucking head game. Humans are only born with so many holes, and we like to keep it that way. There’s something really fucking disturbing about coming face to face with the reality that under all the fancy clothes, we’re just sacks of blood and guts.
She nods. Having something to focus on will keep her brain from spinning in place and panicking.
“Lemme clear off that table,” Shadow says, already sweeping the random coffee mugs and debris straight onto the floor.
With a heave, Thunder and I get Outlaw in place. He snaps out a pained “Fuck!” through clenched teeth, so at least he's still conscious. That's something.
“Hang in there, brother,” I tell him.
Shadow pushes Outlaw’s jacket open and starts carefully pulling up the blood soaked shirt. He and Thunder roll him gently to check for an exit wound. It’s there, so at least it didn’t stay inside, scrambling his guts, but I can’t tell the angle it went through him.
“Call Doc,” Thunder snaps.
I'm already on it. Twins think alike. It takes way too fucking long for the number to start ringing. “Come the fuck on,” I hiss like it'll make it go any faster. God knows how much fucking time we have.
“Yeah?” Doc's grouchy voice is like fucking music. Off-key maybe, but sweet all the same.
“Thank fuck. Outlaw's down, bullet through his right side, back to front. He's awake and bleeding hard. Walk us through it.”
“Get the wound clear and his knees up. I’ll call back on video.” Doc hangs up.
Harper comes over with a roll of heavy duty paper toweling and a six pack of store brand bottled water. She also found a small first aid kit. “Here. I don’t think the bandages are big enough to help, but there’s some antiseptic. It’s better than nothing, right?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” I say with a grin, putting a hand on the back of her neck and pulling her in for a quick, grateful kiss. She gapes at me in shock as the video call starts ringing.
“Yeah, good. Clean it up,” Doc orders. “How fast can you get back to the compound?”
“Not happening. We’re in Vegas.”
“Vegas? For fuck's sake. Outlaw, if you're gonna get into trouble, at least do it at home. Fine.” He follows along as we do our best to get the blood off so we can see what’s going on, telling us where and what to feel for.