Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“I don’t care about my father. He doesn’t know anything!”
“He knows you’re a psychopath. The clingy little brat who can’t get a woman on his ow—”
“Shut up.”
“Or should we talk about your mommy issues? She didn’t even say goodbye when she left you, did she?”
“Shut up!” Vince twitches and slightly lowers his gun, slipping up. Two shots ring out, and Vince jerks back and stumbles, the impact from the bullets taking me down with him. He slams against the gate, his grip on me loosening, then crumbles to the ground.
Tate lunges toward me, but I fight past him. “Babe, it’s okay. I got you—”
“No!”
“Mindy, you’re safe. I’ve got—”
“No! Let me go! I need to help him!”
“Mindy—”
“Let me go!” I escape his hold and run inside, barely feeling my feet slamming against the floor as I make it to the living room. Justin lies motionless on the floor surrounded by paramedics. “No, no, no.” I drop to my knees and grab his hand. “No, you’re going to be okay. You have to fight. Please. You have to fight for Ruth.” Tears soak my cheeks. “For baby Mindy.”
“Ma’am, can you please—?”
“She doesn’t… like…” Justin struggles for air, “to be… called ma’am.” The medic pushes me aside to lift him onto a gurney and rushes off, leaving me kneeling in a pool of blood.
“Minds.” I hear my name but barely raise my chin. Tate kneels next to me, not caring that his pants are being soaked in blood. “Baby, are you okay? Are you hurt?”
My wet eyes raise to his. “Am I okay?” He tenses, worry, guilt, and fear flashing through his eyes. “No, Tate… I’m not okay. I’m really fucking not okay!” I scream, hurling myself at him. Maybe I’m just as crazy as Vince, but I can’t stop myself from pulling my fists back and swinging. “You left me! You fucking left me!” I scream until my voice is hoarse and sobs take over. He left me. And because of him, Justin is going to die.
“Shhh… I know. I fucking know.” I want to smack him. Claw his eyes out. Punch him in the throat. But I can’t stop crying. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” I inhale his words, my tears soaking his shirt. Someone pulls me away. A medic.
“Miss Parks, are you all right? Any injuries?”
“No, but Justin—” I sway.
Tate scoops me into his arms. “She’s not fuckin all right,” he barks, carrying me to the ambulance.
“Let me down.” I struggle in his arms, and he holds me tighter, only letting me go to lay me on a gurney outside the ambulance. After the medics move the gurney in and climb up, Tate follows, but I throw my hand out. “No!” He freezes. “You don’t get to do that. You made your choice. You don’t get to be the hero here.”
“Minds—”
I turn to the medic. “I’ve seen enough TV shows to know only family can ride with. He’s nobody to me.” I hope my words wound him. He’s done much worse to me.
The medic leans forward, grabbing the latches to the door. “Sorry, man.” He closes the doors with Tate on the other side, then taps on the wall for his partner to drive.
The second we pull away, I fall apart. I’m finally safe but drowning in pain and uncertainty.
“Miss Parks, are you in pain? Are there any injuries not visible?” I squeeze my eyes closed and shake my head. “Okay.” I open my eyes and watch him through blurred vision. Panic steals my next breath. “Wait, what are you doing?”
“I’m just going to start an IV.”
“No. No! No needles. I don’t want any more drugs,” I sob.
“This is just fluids to hydrate you.” He reaches for my arm, but I rip it away and try to climb off the gurney. “Miss Parks, I promise, I’m not going to hurt you—”
“You stab me with that thing, I’m going to take my fist to your jugular,” I threaten through my tears. He stares at me briefly, then nods.
“Okay. No needle.” A sliver of relief courses through me. “But they’re going to insist at the hospital, and some nurses are not scared of a throat punch.”
“We’ll see about that.” I settle back onto the gurney.
“Mindy—can I call you Mindy?” I nod. “I need to ask you a few questions. Is that okay?” Another nod. “I asked before, but are there any injuries you’ve sustained that aren’t visible?”
I shake my head. “No. Just my ankle. It’s pretty raw around the bottom. He had a cuff chained around it.” I bite the inside of my cheek. He nods, makes quick notes on a chart, and sets it down.
“Okay. Can I look at it?” The feel of his hands on me causes me to jerk. “Sorry, just lifting your pants so I can see. There we go.” I blow out a breath as he sits back up. “This is mandatory to ask in situations like this. Were you sexually assaulted in any way?”