Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Like I usually do.
As soon as he disappears into the back, I hurry out the door and start jogging.
My phone buzzes again, and I pull it out as I head toward the bus stop. But the loud roar of motorcycles has me whipping my head toward the horizon.
I can’t see them yet, but I hear the thunder they bring before the lightning.
They’re early…
That can’t be good.
The bus stops, and I hop on, planning to take it to the actual bus station. But as I get a seat and we start moving, that ominous thunder grows louder. I can feel the vibrations even inside the bus.
Snatching the hat from my bag, I pull it low over my forehead, and wrap a scarf around my mouth as I peer out the window. Waiting for them to rattle the bus on their way by so I can see the cuts and be certain.
But I know it’s them. I’ve heard the ever-changing thunder my entire life. You know the unified sound their bikes make together. You know when someone new is riding with them. You know it like you know your favorite song they overplay on the radio until you start to hate it.
And even though I know it’s them, my stomach roils when I see them start whirring by with Herrin right out front.
With my father right out front.
The Death Dealers are back from a ride that should have lasted another week.
My phone buzzes again, and with shaky hands I juggle it out.
The name that flashes has me scrambling to answer.
“Demetri, what the hell—”
“If you’re not out of town, do not take the bus, the train, or an airplane. Rent a car and get the fuck out that way, because Herrin knows, Kara. And he’s not going to jail. I can already tell it.”
“What do you mean he knows?” I hiss, trying to keep my voice quiet as my eyes dart around the bus, searching the faces to see if anyone is already scoping me out.
“My editor came back and said he had to pull the story for some bullshit reason. He claims there aren’t enough sources to run a story like this, and the other two sources pulled out when he spoke to them. So I took it all to my friend in Homicide that I was telling you about. He told me to get out of town, and to get you out, because once he started this, it wouldn’t be pretty.”
“We already knew that,” I tell him, another shaky breath leaving me.
“Yeah. What we didn’t know was just how tied in with the cops your father really is. This all happened three days ago. Today, I get a call from a friend who knows I was working the story. He lives up north, and said he saw the Death Dealers cruising back earlier this morning. He just called me about an hour ago, and I’ve been calling you ever since.”
My entire stomach is in knots.
“So someone already warned him,” I say on a whisper.
“And the story is being squashed. No doubt that evidence will go missing. It was all circumstantial as it was. Public outrage was our only hope of even getting this shit taken seriously.”
Swallowing hard, I look back, realizing maybe I’m more naïve than I thought. Because I really thought Herrin would pay for his crimes, when no one else has ever made him pay before.
“Seriously, Kara. Rent a car. Get out of town. Hell, steal a fucking car if you have to. Just don’t use public transportation of any kind, because he’s looking already. Death Dealers are popping up at all the closest points.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Why did the guys just let me leave the warehouse? Did they know? Or were they just too low on the tier to get that knowledge?
They’d never call Rush. He’s just a prospect. Leo was there, and he’s barely a half-ass mechanic with a goofy grin. Most of the harder guys weren’t there. Just the family guys who might have lied for me…
We pull up to a stop, and Snake, one of my brother’s guys, is standing at the stop. His bike is parked up on the sidewalk, resting there like it’s a personal parking spot.
My stomach sinks as he steps on and says something to the driver. The driver glances in his rearview mirror, a nervous expression on his face, as Snake starts walking from seat to seat, looking around like he’s searching for someone.
Searching for me.
With all the bravado I can muster, I start talking in a thick, exaggerated southern drawl, changing up the tone of my voice just enough to sound realistic but certainly not like me.
“Yeah, Daddy. I’ll be home later today,” I say, causing Demetri to suck in a breath.
“One’s there?” he whispers.
“Yeah. I’m on the bus right now. I was going to head downtown, but I think I’ll get off at the next stop and wait for you at Misty’s apartment,” I tell him as Snake works his way to be halfway down the bus.