Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
“That. Was. My. Brother.”
“Yeah, well, took care of him, did’n I?” He was still laughing.
“Thought that was you. Know it for sure now.”
“Yeah. Tha’ was a fun nigh’.”
I breathed in through my nose, keeping it together. “Where’s the gun?”
“You’d like to know, huh?”
“Gotta be here, huh, McAfee? In your tent? I’ll find it. But first, I got some gifts for you.” And I laid in.
I might have kicked the man a few—many—times when he was down. He fucking had it coming.
My attention over the next few minutes was all on McAfee, making sure he was feeling more pain, and that he was aware it was me giving it to him. Target’s second shot had got him in his lower right ribs—he probably had a cracked rib and a punctured lung, but it wasn’t a death shot.
Some of the guys eventually pulled me away, and they took over tying his ass up, and letting some more steam off on him when they felt it necessary.
I called out to Bull, told him to check the tent for the gun that killed Keith. He was all over that shit, made sure the guys breaking down camp were catching everything they could as evidence. Smartphones were out in force, photos and videos were taken, the works.
Grath had called Steph, who was coming out with his own team, but they’d be awhile on the road. Still, I was reassured that everything was being done right to take this motherfucker off the streets for the better part of the rest of his life, if not all of it. He was going down, long and hard.
By the time I made it back to Ellie’s side, she was looking relieved and—something else, but I couldn’t read it. One thing was clear: she was ready to go, as she finished tying up the huge long scarf she used to carry Peter around in, making a massive X across her chest.
“How’s he doing?” I asked, putting my hand lightly against his back, trying to feel his breathing, desperate to touch him and see for myself that the kid was okay. Damn, thirty-so hours was a long fucking time. It was really just hitting me now, how scared I had been—and how scared Ellie must have been.
I’d been working: on the road, searching, hunting, making calls, doing sweeps. Active. I hadn’t allowed myself time to stop and think much. But Ellie, she had been at home, just waiting for a call with news or …
But now that we had Peter back, secure, alive—now I felt it. And the fear, and the relief—I got something in my eyes again. Shit.
“He’s okay. He ate—poor little guy was hungry. I think he’s gotta be dehydrated. I don’t think he ate the whole time he was gone. He was crying so hard, but it was so weak…”
“We gotta get him checked out, Ellie. ASAP.”
“Yeah, I know. We have to go. I don’t want to be here anymore. I don’t care what happens with Brian—I don’t want to wait around to find out. I need to get Petey out of here. Like, now, Jack.”
I nodded, completely in agreement. “Hold on, let me get Patch. He’s got a sidecar on his bike, brought that one for a reason. You climb in there, and we’re out of here. You sure you want to be the one to carry the baby on the trail? We can wrap him on me, might be easier for you.”
She thought about it for a second, but shook her head. “No, thanks. He’s mine. He needs me. I’ll be okay. I just want to go.”
I looked at her a second, knowing there was more to her rejection than the surface intention, but not clear on what it really meant. Still, she was the mama, she got to make that call.
“Be right back.” I then hailed Patch to join us—he would, after all, be a hero of the day—and we were off, following the cheese puff trail.
It didn’t take that long for us to get back to the trailhead—I carried all our bags except for her water-pack, which I had unloaded of all other non-essentials.
We got back to the main parking lot in record time. As I got her and Peter settled back in the truck, I asked her, “You sure you’re okay to drive? I could leave my bike here, come back for it tomorrow or something. No need for you to drive unless you want to. You’ve been through a lot, baby.”
“No, I’m okay. I can make the drive. Peter’s exhausted, he’s just gonna sleep. He’s fed, he’ll be fine. I just need to go now, Jack. I just need to go.” Her eyes were pleading.
The woman was on a mission, and I nodded my assent. So I played escort on my bike, and we headed straight back to Tucson.