Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 33998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
And Helena continued to silently watch from the edge of the woods.
7
Whiler
I eyed the vehicle headed toward us, my hands tightening on the handlebars of my bike. Something about it set me on edge. My gut was practically yelling at me that something bad was going to happen, and it never let me down.
Gritting my teeth, I revved my engine a little, trying to get Ink’s attention, but he didn’t turn to face me. And he didn’t slow down or speed up either, which meant he didn’t get the message.
That was all the time I had.
A bullet tore through my side, and I lost control of my bike from the momentary blinding pain. The asphalt quickly ripped through my shirt, burning my arm. I quickly curled myself into a ball as much as I could as I tumbled down the steep slope on the side of the road, gritting my teeth against the pain. Blood filled my mouth, and my vision momentarily went white once I finally hit the bottom, every part of my body aching. I could hear Ink and Vern shouting from above, but there was no gunfire.
“Whiler!” Ink barked as he quickly made his way down the slope. His phone was to his ear. “Joey, get the fucking van. Whiler was just shot. Pretty sure the hit was meant for him.”
I rolled onto my back and stared up at the blue sky, pain pulsing through every inch of my body, but I didn’t think anything was broken. My jeans and leather cut had protected most of my body, though I knew I had road rash on my arm under my torn shirt. I could feel blood trickling down my cheek, but my head seemed alright.
Thank God for fucking helmets.
“Whiler, brother, can you hear me?” Vern asked, patting my cheek. My blood smeared on his hand, but he didn’t pay it any mind.
“I can hear you,” I grumbled. “I don’t think anything is broken.”
After pushing myself up into a sitting position and spitting some blood onto the ground beside me, I peeled my jacket and shirt up, grimacing at my side. “Flesh wound,” Vern told Ink. “But he’s bleeding like a mother fucker.” Vern sat me up and pushed my cut off my shoulders before peeling my shirt over my head. Using the hole in my shirt, he ripped it up and tied it around my torso to help slow the bleeding.
“Joey is on his way,” Ink told me, bringing his phone down from his ear. “He’s bringing Cannon. She was a nurse. She’ll be able to get you stitched up before you bleed too much.”
Fucking Cannon. I’d rather bleed out.
I grunted in response and reached up to unbuckle my helmet. After tossing it on the ground next to me, I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed before looking around for my bike. I grimaced at the sight of it. The paint job was fucked, my front tire was popped, and one of the mufflers had broken.
Just my fucking luck. Undrivable.
“Help me get up the fucking hill,” I grumbled.
Vern helped me to my feet, and he and Ink worked on getting me back up the slope. My feet were still unsteady beneath me, and my head was beginning to throb. I needed a hot shower, some whiskey, and a fucking bed. I thought my head had been okay, but I probably had a minor concussion.
Joey was pulling up by the time we made it to the top. He jumped off his bike, and Alejandro, who had been driving the van, came to a stop behind him. “Jesus fucking Christ,” Joey snarled. I flashed him a bloody smile. “Get in the van.”
Vern helped me to the van, while Ink headed down the slope with Joey to try to get my mangled bike up. Cannon pushed open the back doors, grimacing at the sight of me. “How bad?” she asked immediately as she reached out to help me inside and onto one of the seats.
“More aches and pains than anything,” I told her. The bleeding in my mouth seemed to be slowing, and no teeth were loose or missing. “Took a bullet graze to the side. Bleeding on my cheek. I think that covers it. If you’ve got some water, I could really do with rinsing my mouth out.”
Cannon handed me a bottle of water, and I quickly rinsed my mouth before spitting it outside of the van. She flipped open a first-aid kit and unwrapped my side once I was settled in front of her. My body was screaming in pain. “You need stitches,” she told me as Vern shut the doors, giving us privacy. “Do you need me to give you a numbing shot?”
I shook my head. “Just do what you need,” I told her. I could handle the pain of a few stitches.