Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
It was the walk for me that was a dead giveaway.
Men shuffled, swaggered, and strode.
Women, whether they meant to or not, swayed more than men did. I figured it was more to do with their hips and different center of gravity than the fact that they were, you know, doing it consciously.
And this hooded figure swayed enough for me to clock it.
I didn’t think much of it. This was a decent street, but who knew where she was heading. It was night. Dark. She was alone. It was always safer for a woman to try to disguise herself as a man than to deal with some creep following them around when they were just trying to get from Point A to Point B.
I didn’t even think much of it as she took out her phone and turned a bit awkwardly toward the row houses as she passed.
It wasn’t until she came back down the street, this time walking past my car, that I sat up a little straighter and took note.
This time, when she lifted her phone, I focused my binoculars on it as she focused on the row houses.
She was taking pictures.
Of each level of the house itself, but also the street in general.
Was she staking it out?
If so, why?
And why the fuck was she doing it alone?
Granted, I was alone.
But I was in a car. And I had the whole of my Family behind me if shit went down.
Who did she have?
Maybe I was thinking too narrowly, though.
It was possible she was just an ex-girlfriend with a grudge or something like that.
Hell, maybe she’d get her Molotov cocktail on and save me from having to do anything.
She was on her third trip down the street when the door at the top of the steps flew open and a man walked out, the streetlights catching off of something long and metal in his hand.
The woman seemed to see or sense the danger as well, yanking her hoodie strings tighter around her face as she started to pick up her pace. It wasn’t exactly a run. She was trying not to draw attention to herself in case the guy was just stepping out for a smoke or something.
My windows were cracked to let in some fresh air, enough that I could hear it when the man on the steps called out.
“Hey!” he yelled, making the woman push her legs a little faster. “Get your ass back here,” he called.
Then he was rushing down the steps.
And the woman was running.
But not out toward the cross street.
Nope.
She was running directly at my truck.
Before I could even think to hit the locks, she was yanking open the door, and rushing inside.
It was then I saw another glint of metal.
As she aimed a gun at me.
“Drive,” she demanded.
Even if I didn’t want to, she left me no choice with the man rushing forward, arm lifted, ready to hail bullets on the truck.
Of all the ways I could have anticipated this night ending, getting shot at while being carjacked was certainly not on that list.
I turned over the truck, backed out of the street, and fucking floored it as two bullets clipped my truck bed.
CHAPTER FOUR
Saylor
“Are those dog treats?” Keith asked, squinting at the three oversized reusable bags that were jam-packed with treats, toys, bowls, food, a leash, and even a shrink-wrapped dog bed.
I wasn’t much for shopping.
But I’d practically blacked out in the pet store, grabbing shit and piling it into the mini two-decker cart I’d grabbed at the door.
Apparently, shopping was a lot more fun when it didn’t involve shit I needed for myself.
“Are you serious right now?” I asked, pressing the muzzle of the gun a little more firmly against his temple.
“Ey, ey, I’m just asking a question,” he said, holding up his hands.
“I’m the one asking questions,” I reminded him.
Keith was a pain in the ass.
A mid-level hacker who worked with anyone who could give him some cash to support his gaming, energy drink, and frozen pizza roll addiction.
A city of twenty-five-thousand restaurants and he ate pizza rolls almost exclusively.
“Yeah, I know, I know,” he said, nodding his head, making his floppy alpaca haircut jiggle. “You’re one badass chick,” he agreed, making me sigh and lower the gun since it was having exactly no impact on him.
I’d only pulled the gun when he’d ignored me as he tapped away with his fancy split keyboard and rambled on and on to me about ceramic keycaps and ‘creamy’ switches, telling me that was why the typing sounded ‘thunky’ instead of ‘clacky.’
It was like the guy was speaking a different language.
Nerdanese or something.
At least the gun had gotten him to swivel away from his set of three monitors to actually look at me.
And let me look at him.
He looked a little paler than the last time I’d seen him. Which was saying something because the guy could cosplay as Casper on a good day. It was likely thanks to his endless hours stuck inside his stuffy apartment over the bodega where he bought his canned energy drinks and pizza rolls.