Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
I punch him in the mouth. He sees it coming, and he lets me hit him. I hit him again.
“Dad!” Emma screams, running toward me.
I turn away, marching into the snow, into the darkness. “Just leave me the fuck alone!” I bellow, hardly even thinking, unable to process this. A look across the table, some light flirtation, is a world away from what I saw and how their bodies were fused. It’s so different from the cold reality of it.
I reach the tree line before my senses return and realize how useless this is. What do I think I’m going to achieve by walking out here?
Turning, I see something confusing. Jacob is running from the house with a rifle. He shouts something at me, but I can’t hear it. Why can’t I hear it? Why is my head hurting? Dimly, I remember something cold smashing into my skull, but I can’t remember when. I fall into the snow, and then somebody hauls me to my feet. My vision is blurry. The stars aren’t bright, but they’re making my eyes hurt.
“Easy, tough guy,” a man with a gruff Mexican accent says in my ear. Then he says something in Spanish, calling over to the house.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
JACOB
They waited until Mike left his post, and then they moved in. That’s the only explanation of how they could’ve emerged from the trees so fast. The bastards. Was Mike watching the camera feeds properly? Maybe he was distracted, wondering if his ears were playing tricks on him.
“In the house,” I snap at Emma, aiming the rifle at Rafael as he uses Mike as a human shield. I didn’t have a gun on me. I saw the men coming, darted in, and got a rifle. In the meantime, Rafael coldcocked Mike over the head.
Emma stands paralyzed next to me, but it’s not her fault. She’s a civilian and not used to this sort of madness. She never guessed she’d have to be ready for something like this, something so deranged.
“Now,” I holler when two more men emerge from the forest, both holding rifles. “To the safe room, Emma.”
She darts inside, taking Rusty with her. The men stand at Rafael’s side. Mike slouches in Rafael’s grip as if he’s finding it difficult to stay upright. He’s clearly struggling to focus. Poor Mike, man. Dammit. He sees the worst thing a father can and then runs headfirst into the lowlifes I brought to his door.
“Where has your little friend gone?” Rafael calls.
“She’s got nothing to do with this,” I snap.
“I could order my men to shoot you now. Two on one.”
“Risk it,” I say, aiming down the rifle, keeping my nerves calm… or trying to. It would be so much easier without my best friend at risk, without thinking of my lady shivering, alone, afraid in the safe room unless he’s sent more men to attack from different angles on the property.
“I didn’t come all this way to ruin the fun early,” Rafael says, and then he grunts into the forest in English. “Come, dogs.”
What the… Two women walk from behind the trees, wearing scraggly coats. One is young, on the more petite side, with blond hair. I don’t have to wonder who she is for long. Fierce life fires into Mike when he sees her. He bellows and tries to move toward her, but Rafael holds him. It must be Angelica.
The other woman is older, with thin silver hair, wrinkled, and forgiveness in her eyes. Is it a trick of the light playing against the snow? I’m sure I see it there, a glimmer as if she’s wordlessly telling me she wants to make amends. She doesn’t look terrified. She looks more apologetic, like she hates herself for bringing more pain into my life. Or am I just hoping? I haven’t seen her in years. It hits me too hard, considering what’s at stake.
“Aren’t you going to say hello?” Rafael says in Spanish, laughing. “You’re a silly man, Jacob. Your big, bad ex-Army friend told his little whore where you were staying.”
Mike doesn’t understand what he’s saying, and I decide never to tell him what Rafael just said. He won’t be able to forgive himself. He’s suffered enough.
“What’s your plan?” I growl.
“My plan is for us all to sit down together and have a civilized conversation.”
Here we go. He doesn’t want to rush this. He wants to drag it out, make it last, so he can satisfy whatever warped, perverted thing inside him makes him risk his business for personal vendettas.
“You came to the States, risked capture, for… for this? So you could feel—”
“Don’t ruin it,” Rafael snaps. “If you’re so eager to rush it, maybe I’ll take you up on the offer. I’ll gut your friend, and you can watch him spill out onto the snow. How does that sound? Would that be preferable?”