Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52639 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52639 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
“That’s the old air strip of the Buchanan family.” Racer explains studying the screen. “He’s got a private plane coming, I’ll put money on it.”
“Fuck,” I roar. “They get in the air; we got nothing until Link can track her again.”
“Your man has skills, we been at this shit half an hour or more and got nowhere,” the prospect chimes in.
All the Jacoby brothers are the fucking best, but I’m not about to get into that. “How far out are we?” I ask trying to get an idea of our distance to close in on her.
“Eight minutes max,” Stone tells me while looking around. “O’Leary is a smart son-of- a-bitch. Can’t go in on bikes because he’s gonna watch for Sons. We got the mom van which is good. Do you shoot?” He asks me.
“Army before my accident. Sharpshooter.”
Racer gives a proud smile before pushing a button on the middle console that slides a drawer open to me. “Prospect will get the AR from the back. Busted, pick your nine from those. Vests are under your seat. Suit up, grab some clips and get ready for battle, soldier.”
What kind of crazy motherfuckers are these to outfit a van as a battle machine? I don’t give a fuck right now, I’m ready to kill anyone who gets between me and Emmalee and Dia.
O’Leary or Sinister Sons be damned.
ELEVEN
EMMALEE
Life lessons with Emma: Some nightmares never end.
We are at some airfield with swamps literally on both sides of this strip of pavement, a small plane hangar and a tower. In my driving around aimlessly to figure out life, I didn’t dare spare the extra expense of tourist attractions. I always wondered about those airboat rides and gator adventures.
Curiosity.
In this moment, I don’t actually care for an up-close gator experience. In fact, I don’t need to see a swamp this close.
Why can’t I be the girl with a boring life? Or at least a calm one. Maybe I should have decided to be a librarian. If I ever get to go back to school, forget working on biologics to cure diseases. No, I will get a library science degree and work in a school. This way the only drama I can find is between the pages of books and not live it out.
I can hear the noise of the swamp near us, and it sends shivers down my spine. Are they going to feed us to the alligators? I still don’t understand what I have to do with any of this. And now I’ve gotten Dia sucked into it. I have to do something, fix this.
Fight, flight, or freeze.
Every fucking time, I freeze.
When shit hit the fan last year with Diem and her dad, my dad, the whole thing I was stunned in shock. I literally couldn’t move, couldn’t think. She had to tell me to hide for me to even do that. Then I came out of hiding instead of waiting for help that was on the way and nearly died. I am intelligent. I should have thought of something. Instead, I stood there dumbfounded while the world crashed around me. I can’t do that to people I care about again.
Maybe I pissed off God or did something in another life to cause myself this level of chaos and pain. If I deserve this so be it. Dia, though, she is nothing but sweet to everyone around her. I can’t watch her die because of me.
Dia is beside me. Patrick O’Leary stands around casually with a phone to his ear while the other two-armed goons’ pace and watch every movement. Our hands are still cuffed behind our backs and the ride here was uncomfortable to say the least.
I’m not some thrill seeker. I don’t know how to process a plan to get us out of this. I absolutely feel like a damsel in distress.
Except, I don’t believe in fairy tales or knights that come to save a princess. I’m not a princess, I’m a peasant, and right now, I’m fucking screwed.
Dia bumps into me and I look at her trying to understand what she’s communicating. It sucks that we can’t freely speak because the men remain too close. Dia is quick-witted and clever obviously she’s come up with something.
She begins crossing her legs and uncrossing them. She half jumps up and down. I stare at her with eyes wide open.
“Excuse me, sirs,” she engages our captors and I want to scream don’t engage the enemy. “Umm, sirs,” she tries to garner attention again.
They come in closer while I still try to figure out what she’s doing. Everyone back home may love her, but I have a feeling these men don’t love anyone. I don’t have the street skills for this, and I don’t know Dia well enough to know if she’s been in any kind of danger before.