Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Bellamy stopped just out of reach of the streetlight, then ducked behind a half-dead bush. “Shit. Nikki’s old man’s pickup is in the drive. Maybe we should—”
I punched him in the shoulder hard enough he nearly fell into the shrub. “Stop being a puss, Bell.” Maybe he could afford not to steal the car. I couldn’t. “Tony specifically asked for a Z28, and you know as well as I do Salami Tits’s dad has one parked in the backyard.”
Bell peeked around the bush at the house. “He pulled a gun on me once for pissing in the yard, Hendrix. It’s my first semester in college. I don’t want to want to die.”
“You said he has bad aim.”
The electronic glow from the television in the front room was the only light on in the place. Everyone in Dayton knew Mr. Wright was a raging drunk. Chances were, he was passed out in his Lazy-Boy recliner.
Checking over my shoulder, I could just make out the shadow of Wolf’s truck parked down the street, engine running, headlights off. I gave him the hand signal, letting him know we were going in before I crept through the overgrown grass.
Bellamy huffed, then followed me around the side of the house. “This is stupid as hell.”
“Everything we do is stupid as hell.”
I climbed over the dead trunk that had flattened half the chain-link fence, then hopped into the yard.
Moonlight reflected off the hood of the bright-red Camaro parked beside a broken swing set.
“I swear to God, Hendrix. He’ll recognize us if he sees us. If we get arrested...” Bell glanced at the house behind us, nerves visibly rattled like we hadn’t spent the last three years stealing cars—and only one of us had gone to jail for it. Zepp. And he had nothing to do with the car he was arrested for stealing. That was all Monroe James and her redheaded devil self.
“He’s too drunk to see straight. No one’s getting arrested.”
“All right. If I get shot, I’m going to kill you
“Out of the two of us, he’ll definitely pick off your ass. You’re slower, and, for once, I’m not the one who fucked his daughter.”
Grumbling, Bellamy dropped his dad’s police bag to the ground with a thud. Within a matter of seconds, the lock was popped.
He went to climb behind the wheel, but I snatched his shirt and yanked him back.
“What the hell are you doing, Hendrix?” He shoved me, but I still managed to place myself between him and the car.
“You’re shit at hotwiring. I let you have the last car we stole—thirty-seven days ago—and I could have beat one out on a saltine cracker by the time you finally got it started.”
I swept a nest of crumpled napkins out of the way, sank into the driver’s seat, then dismantled the steering column, quickly pulling out wires. Sparks lit up the dusty interior. The engine whirred to life, sending the potent stench of mildew wafting from the air-conditioner vents.
“Good,” he said. “Now get out.”
“Shut your mouth and get in the passenger side.”
“You can’t drive Hendrix. Your license is suspended.”
“Like I give a shit.”
“It’s safer to ride with a blind drunk than with you.”
I snatched the seatbelt and buckled myself in
“Get out.” Bellamy kicked his boot against the side of my seat.
The floodlight to Nikki’s house cut on, followed by the bang of a screen door. Mr. Wright barreled onto his porch in a pair of tighty-whiteys, a beer can in one hand and a shotgun in the other.
If I was going down in a hail of gunfire, it was going to be over something epic like robbing a bank of millions while getting a blowjob from Lola. Not stealing a piece of shit Camaro from Nikki Salami Tits Wright’s yard.
“You sons of bitches!” Nikki’s dad shouted from the back porch, aiming his gun.
Bellamy launched himself over the hood, clamoring for the passenger door while I shifted the gear into drive. “Go, Hendrix! Go!” His ass barely touched the seat before I pressed the accelerator to the floor.
The impressive engine roared to life like a jungle cat, tires spun, and the car skidded across the yard just as the bang of gunfire sounded.
A bullet pinged the back of the car.
I drove full force toward the chain-link fence. He fired again. Literal sparks ignited when the bullet hit the side panel. “Holy fuckballs, man! I thought you said he had bad aim?”
I skirted onto the road, and Wolf peeled off with a screech of tires and smoke lifting in the glow of the taillights.
Another bullet whizzed through the air. I checked the dirty rearview just as Nikki’s dad hooked it onto the street with his can of beer and shotgun. He stopped in the middle of the road, taking a sip as he buried the buttstock in his gut and aimed.