Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Jesus, I’m so out of shape. Fucking accident. I was stupid. Can’t do this with one hand.
A close shot makes me jump; Meredith stumbles. She cries out as red blooms across her right shoulder. I rush her from behind, scooping her up with my right arm and throwing her over my shoulder, realizing belatedly that she's a sitting duck behind me, so I shift her to my front and hug her to me with my arm.
“Hold on,” I yell into her ear. “I've got to shoot again!”
I find him in the narrow, jolting frame of vision over my shoulder. I aim for his throat but I’m running and firing backwards, so the shot goes wild. He somehow manages to shoot—
SHIT! I wait for pain that doesn’t come, then look down and understand: It's my left hand. The fucker is spurting blood, but I can't feel it. Whatever.
He gets in one more shot, a crazy shot he fires with crazy eyes, and as he does I notice the handle of vodka sticking out of his pants pocket. I spot a bush and throw Merri behind it, and as I do, the bullet lodges in the sole of my shoe. I can tell because the bottom of my foot feels hot and I can feel a bump. I take one step toward him, aim, and fire two quick shots at his leg. The first misses. The second hits the bottle, shattering it. The man screams and falls to the ground, and I put two more shots in his head.
They’re grizzly, disgusting shots, and the fallout is something I'll be seeing in nightmares. Merri shrieks, then comes zipping toward me like a beautiful, girl bullet. She throws her arms around me and says, “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God oh my God he's dead! You killed David! That's Jesus's boyfriend. Oh my God.”
Jesus's boyfriend?
“Evan, we need to move his body! Your gun is loud! Someone might have heard!”
“Yeah.”
“OH MY GOD, YOUR HAND!”
Merri grabs my left arm, and I flinch, not because it hurts but because it's weird when people touch it. It makes me feel...uncomfortable. But she doesn't let go. She gets a death grip on my wrist and holds the hand up to inspect.
It's a bloody mess, but it looks like the bullet punched out that little flap of skin between my thumb and forefinger. I've studied the anatomy of the hand enough in the last six months to know it's bleeding heavily because the radial artery is nearby. I'm feeling dizzy, but it doesn't hurt. I use my right hand to steal my left one out of Merri's grasp and whirl her around so I can see the back of her right shoulder.
“He got you, too.”
I want to rip her shirt away so I can really see the wound, but I can't do that one-handed...not unless I use my mouth to hold her collar steady.
“It was just a graze,” she says, fingering the bloody spot. The circle of blood hasn't grown much larger than a teacup saucer, but... “You’ve been shot before?”
“Of course,” she mutters. She turns to face me with her hands on her hips again. The look on her face is somehow a mix of gentle, frustrated, and sad. “Can you help me move the body? I don't think there's anywhere good to hide him out here, but I'll open the back door and we can leave him in the laundry room.”
“The back door?” I frown at the dirt mound, and that's when I realize... “That's a house!”
“Yeah.” She winces as she moves her right arm. Then she shocks me by pulling off her shirt.
Holy Jesus H.
If I was dizzy before, I almost pass out when I see her creamy skin. My eyes jet to her huge tits, spilling out of a silky-looking sky blue bra, and travel down her soft, slim belly to the waist of her pants. Oh fucking hell, I want to kiss her there. She looks so soft.
She steps closer to me, sending my adrenaline boner into overdrive, and rips the shirt in half, using one half of it to wrap around my hand, right where the gunshot was.
“Will this hurt?” she asks, looking into my eyes before she ties it.
“I can't feel the hand.”
“Well that's a good thing.” She's breathing heavily as she ties it. I brush her hair off her forehead to check her eyes.
“I'm not in shock,” she says. She touches my cheek. “Are you?”
“I don't think so. I don't need your help with David, either. I can drag him in if you open the door.” I might need her help, but I won't take it. I can't stand the thought of this beautiful woman touching a corpse.
“Are you sure? ’Cause I don't mind.”
I nod. “I'm sure.”
“You need to keep that left hand elevated. When we get inside I'll sterilize and do a proper bandage.”