Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“Blade!” Faith is panicking, but I can’t deal with her yet. Soon.
I tear my blindfold off. The bright, bare lightbulb that hangs from the ceiling is blinding, but I squint and roll onto Shovelhead. He’s still screaming over his broken arm when I come on top of him, grab his head by his fucking ears and slam it into the hard floor.
“That’s for me,” I growl, then slam him again. Instead of making him scream more, it cuts him off short. Did he pass out already? I was almost hoping he’d last a little longer. “And this one’s for Faith.” He grunts, so that’s something. I just hope it hurts like a motherfucker. By the third one, he’s limp. “And that one’s just for fun.”
I let go and he lies still. I could spend all day here taking that motherfucker apart, but there’s no time to lose.
“Blade?” Faith’s voice is barely above a whimper now.
“I’m okay, baby girl. One sec, and I’ll get you loose.” My fingers are raw, but quickly untie the knots around my legs. With my eyes to see and my arms unbound, it’s a whole different world. I kick the chair aside. Fuck, it feels good to have my legs again.
“Are you okay? I thought he was killing you.” Faith says while I untie her. As soon as her arms are free, she tears off her blindfold, and when I look up at her, she gasps. “Oh God, your face!” She reaches out to touch it gently, and though it stings, I let her. “That’s got to hurt so much. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have—”
“Faith, stop. This was Shovelhead’s fault. Crow’s fault. Maybe even my fucking fault for not stopping you, but I refuse to let you blame this on yourself. I chose this. Ripper chose this. Alpha chose this. And now we’re going to get you the fuck out of here.”
Just as I help Faith up on shaky legs, Shovelhead groans. Part of me’s annoyed that he’s not dead yet, and the other part’s glad he’s still there for me to kill. I steal the big knife he’s got in his belt, grab his hair and put it to his throat.
“Ok, motherfucker, what’s the code for the door? You get exactly one fucking chance.”
He groans again, still clutching his arm, but answers groggily, “Six, two, nine, nine. Fuck. Don’t kill me. Please. Fucking please.”
He shuts up when I slit his throat.
33
RIPPER
The mall’s falling apart, just like Razor said. I can’t imagine this place has been in use for at least ten-fifteen years. Looks like shit, and if Razor spoke the truth, it’s filled with it too. And we’re here to flush the place out.
They must be used to being left alone here. Outside one of the loading docks, there’s a mess of bikes parked, giving the fuckers away. I put a hand on the grip of my pistol, making sure it’s sitting loose. These fuckers are going to learn exactly what it means to fuck with the Screaming Eagles MC.
More importantly, they’re going to learn what happens when they fuck around with our girl.
King splits Eagle-eye’s army into divisions, assigning them different angles of attack. But Alpha and me he knows well enough to give us point.
With us, we’ve got Animal, Badass and Quickshot, who’ve been working as a unit lately on the edge between South Side and Blackworth, and of course Eagle-eye, who’s not going to miss an opportunity to do to Crow as he did to his fucking old man.
These fuckers aren’t going to know what hit them.
Quickshot pulls out the rifle he’s got slung in a holster attached to the back of his bike. It’s got a silencer on the end of it. We use some old garbage containers for cover as we close in. Alpha holds up a hand, ordering us to stop, then points.
I nod. Two guards just inside the gates at the top of the dock. They look bored. I’m sure Crow would be pissed if he saw it, but I’ll take it.
Eagle-eye gestures. “Quickshot.”
I still think of him as a fucking kid, but I guess by now he’s in his twenties. He got shot a few years ago, and instead of scaring him off, it gave him focus. He was always a good shot, but that rifle has turned into an extension of his own body. He flashes a cocky grin as he positions himself. If he takes them out from here, I’ll be impressed. Especially with the silencer attached. If he was Army, he’d do well as a sniper.
He puts his weight on the container, using one of the truck connectors as an armrest, then gets into firing position and aims. A moment later, he pulls the trigger twice in a row. Down at the loading dock, both of the Pit Vipers drop to the ground, lifeless.