Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
He had no reaction, as if he’d been expecting this.
“You think I won’t do it.” The gun was steady in my hand, my finger ready to squeeze the trigger and end this once and for all. “If this is the only way out, trust me, I’ll take it. I shot your man back there, and I’ll shoot you too.”
He stepped toward me.
I stepped back, my gun still trained on his face.
Then he made his move and rushed me.
I had a second to think, so I pulled the trigger, unsure exactly where I was aiming. At his chest. His arm. His stomach. I didn’t know because there was no scream.
His body hit mine, and a fist struck me so hard in the face, I fell to the concrete and smacked my head against the cold pavement. My world spun for a moment, and I couldn’t move, just feeling the ice-cold concrete against my skin, the adrenaline in my heart. I tried to push myself up and run, but my body wouldn’t respond.
Footsteps sounded. A car pulled up to the curb. There was a commotion.
“Put her in the car,” Bolton said with a grimace. “Send the doctor to the house. I need stitches.”
I was lifted from the ground by two men, and once I was upright, the world spun again from the punch to my face and the blow to my head. But I saw Bolton strip off his shirt while one of his guys tied it around his arm. There was lots of blood.
I’d shot him, but I missed my mark.
I was put in the car, but it felt like a cage. My safety belt was fastened for me because I was in such a daze.
“Should we take her to the hospital?” one of his men asked.
“She’s fine,” Bolton said. “A walk in the fucking park compared to what I’m about to do to her.”
My head rested against the window, and then my eyes closed.
“She’s got another gun in her pocket.” It was the last thing Bolton said before I slipped away.
When I woke up, I was on the bed upstairs. Still in my clothes and jacket. Even my heels were still on. I opened my eyes, and I was instantly struck with a massive migraine that made me regret opening my eyes.
I sat up then felt my head, finding the massive bump on the right. It was so tender, I couldn’t even touch it without wincing.
On the nightstand were two pills with a glass of water.
I took it without asking what it was. It could be Fentanyl, and I’d still take it. Prefer it, actually. It wouldn’t just get rid of the migraine, but it would get rid of this misery too.
I took my time getting to the edge of the bed. My body could only move an inch at a time because everything hurt, like Bolton had pulled on a pair of boxing gloves and wailed on me while I was passed out.
I took off the heels and stripped off the heavy coat.
My hand went into the pocket, even though I knew the gun was gone.
There were no guns in the house, and there probably weren’t any knives either.
I finally made my way downstairs and found Bolton on the couch, shirtless, with a white bandage wrapped around his bicep. Sunlight brightened the room as it came through the windows. It highlighted the hollowness of his face, the gaunt look that showed how much blood he’d lost.
I felt no remorse.
He knew I was there without looking at me. “Sit.” There was a bite in his voice, like the growl of a rabid dog.
I continued to stand there.
When I didn’t obey, his eyes flicked to me—and he looked deranged like Lucifer. “Sit.”
I obeyed, knowing I couldn’t take more pain than I already felt with this migraine. I sat on the other couch, wanting to cry because none of this had felt real until the afternoon sun forced me to look at it.
He set his coffee mug on the table beside him. “You shot me.”
My eyes turned away.
“Look at me.”
I sucked in a breath before I obeyed.
“You fucking shot me.”
“Just wish I aimed a little higher,” It was a stupid thing to say in my predicament. My captor was the leader of the Brotherhood with a whole army of men to do his bidding. He could easily lock me up here and never let me step outside the front door. I could easily die here…at his hand. But I’d lost all reason to live, so I basically didn’t give a fuck anymore. Maybe he would kill me and end it all.
Rage bubbled on his face. “I’ve informed your boss of your resignation.”
I’d seen that coming.
“He’s sad to see you go,” he said. “You aren’t going to leave this house ever again. Try, and see what happens.”