Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Suddenly, he wants to talk about diplomacy. “I know what I’m doing.”
“You sure about that?”
“You just worry about your guys. I’ll worry about myself.”
He growls something unintelligible but is smart enough to let the matter drop.
Every mile brings me a mile closer to her. Has anyone else had enough time to put their hands on her? To sink their cocks inside her? Burning heat spreads through my chest like I swallowed a lump of blazing coal, and it’s eating me up inside. Is she hurting? Is she afraid? That much, I can assume. She’s terrified right now. And she’s counting on me. Hold on a little while longer. I’m coming for you.
The unlit sign is the first thing to catch my attention as we roll up on the building. “Closed for the evening?” I mutter, exchanging a glance with my brother.
“Either that or he knows this is coming.” Of course he would. He had to know this was coming next. We’re counting on it.
“I assumed he’d use the other girls and his clientele to shield himself, then make his escape in the middle of all the chaos.” That’s still a possibility, though, whether or not the place is crawling with men ready to pay for sex.
The SUVs pull to a stop, chatter overlapping in my ear thanks to the earpiece tucked firmly inside. “Testing the door,” one of the guys reports while another three men take the alley running alongside the building to survey the rear.
“All clear,” one of them announces. “Eyes on the exit.” In case Nathaniel decides to sneak her out the back.
I join the men at the front door and pound my fist against the wood like I did before. This time, there’s no answer. No goon in a suit that’s too tight for him. Nothing at all.
I fall back to let the experts do their work. She’s in there, locked up, probably wondering if I’ll ever fulfill my promise of getting her out. I’m practically bouncing up and down on the balls of my feet as I wait for the C4 to be packed around the lock. Like everyone else, I retreat behind one of the SUVs in preparation for the explosion.
“Three… two… one.” With that, a blast tears through the otherwise peaceful night and blows the door open. We’re moving before the smoke clears, pouring into the building and fanning out, weapons drawn, heads on swivels.
“Deserted?” Nic asks as we move farther into the darkened building. No customers wander the halls, no chatter or laughter. Not even the laugh track from a TV show playing somewhere. Not a sound.
The rapid patter of gunfire answers Nic’s question. We plaster ourselves to the walls, the lead man rounding a corner and returning fire. There’s a strained grunt quickly followed by a heavy thud as the gunman falls.
In my earpiece, I hear the firefight taking place in the rear of the building. “Two of them trying to get out!” one of our guys shouts, the rest of it drowned out by more fire.
“Is she one of them?” I shout, pressing my hand to my ear to hear better. “Is it her?”
Waiting for the noise to die down is torture, every passing second aging me a year. Finally, I hear, “Negative. Two guys. Both down.”
“Is Brookshire one of them?” Nic asks.
“Negative.”
I round the corner and find the bouncer I met on my first visit now slumped against the wall, legs splayed at awkward angles. He’s gasping for air, bleeding freely from a wound in the stomach and another in his shoulder.
Crouching, I lean down so my face fills his field of vision. “Where’s your boss? Where is Delilah?”
He looks up at me, eyes unfocused at first. Once he recognizes me, it sounds like he’s trying to laugh, but all he manages is a wet gurgle. “Go fuck yourself,” he grunts, blood dripping down his chin from the effort.
I slam my fist against his wounded shoulder, and he howls before spitting out a mouthful of blood. “You think he’d tell me?” he bawls, raising a hand to his wound like that’s going to help anything. He looks down at the mess his gut has become. “Aw, shit.”
“You’re dead within fifteen minutes,” I remind him. “If that. You wanna die with that girl on your conscience? Where is he? Was he waiting for this to happen?”
He lifts his head, blinking slowly. “I thought I told you to fuck yourself.” I almost have to give him credit for holding out until the end, even if he sucks at choosing sides.
“You backed the wrong horse.” He doesn’t have the chance to draw another labored breath before I blow his brains out.
Then I stand, my mind made up. “He was ready for this.” Let the others search the rest of the place. I know exactly where I need to go.