Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
If Tank's alive, maybe the others are too, and that means I have a lot more to live for than just trying to bring down these guys. Please let Tank come to before one of the guards finds him. Or Anderson.
Harris hits the basement button before Hawthorne gets to us, but Hawthorne slips in just in time. “Trying to leave without me?” he snaps.
“The objective is bigger than either of us. I’m just getting it going ASAP,” Harris says.
They glower at each other as the elevator descends. Is there trouble in paradise? Is that something I can use?
The elevator jolts to a sudden stop. “Now what?” growls Hawthorne. “I pay good money to have this house kept in perfect condition.”
Harris slams the panel, while Hawthorne messes with the door. Harris has a gun on a holster. Can I…
I reach forward carefully, trying to pull the gun out without him noticing. When I succeed, I'm so surprised I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do next. Like, a gun? Me? And the elevator is so cramped, I don't know if I can make this work, but it's only a matter of time before Harris notices.
I jam the barrel into Hawthorne's side and try to channel my best badass biker chick voice. “Don't fucking move, or I'm gonna blow a hole in your side. There's a reason they call me Trigger.”
Hawthorne freezes and Harris turns.
“Don't fucking move,” I growl. “Or I'm gonna murder your boss.”
Harris looks down at the situation, then laughs and reaches. Oh God, no, I didn't want him to call my bluff. I've never… shutting my eyes tight, I pull the trigger.
Except, nothing happens. The trigger doesn't even move. I get enough time to try again, before Harris slams me against the side of the elevator and pulls it from my fingers. “Next time, you little bitch, try disengaging the safety.” He slams me again for good measure, and the elevator starts again. “Well, would you look at that? Just took the right kind of nudge, didn't it?” He laughs, and it's the ugliest sound I've heard in my life.
Hawthorne, on the other hand, isn't laughing. “Jesus, Harris. Pay attention. She could've killed me.”
“You're fine,” Harris says back. Something's changed in their dynamic. It's like Hawthorne's supervillain veneer has peeled off, and Harris is taking charge. “We'll grab the boat and get the fuck out of here. They're not going to be able to follow.”
Hawthorne nods. He's sweating, wiping his brow and breathing heavily. Part of it is his age, definitely, but he looks terrified.
Good.
Gunshots grow louder. Someone screams, and I hope it's no one I know. I just got Tank back, I’m not ready to lose him again, or the hope that Wraith and Nitro are alive, too. I don't know what miracle saved them, but I refuse to waste this second chance.
The elevator reaches bottom and Hawthorne tears it open. A cold gust of wind rushes in. It opens straight into a mudroom that leads out the back near the boat dock. Harris digs his fingers into my upper arm and hauls me with him out the door.
“Stop right fucking there!” snaps a voice I know so well.
Wraith stands along the side of the house, pointing his gun at the three of us. Next to him is Nitro, Eagle-eye and a younger guy I remember was with the Giordanos. Nicholas? What the heck is he doing here?
Harris whirls me in front of him and puts his gun at my head in a blink. “Don't take a fucking step closer,” he sneers as he drags me backwards down the slippery wooden planks. “If you don't want me to blow her fucking brains out over the water.”
Argh! I want to fight him, but with the gun at my head, I don't dare. I bet he doesn't have the safety on. Like a coward, Hawthorne makes sure to keep us between him and my rescuers, leading the way towards the boat.
“Let her go,” says Nitro. “There's nowhere you can go that we can't find you. Let her go now, and we’ll at least give you a head start.”
Harris growls. “I don't fucking believe you. No, I'm going, and I'm taking her with me. If you're good and keep away, I won't throw her overboard in the middle of the fucking lake.”
I shudder at the thought. It's February. The water's going to be freezing, and the lake is big. Would I be able to swim to land? With my clothes on, before the cold got to me? I'm not that good of a swimmer.
The elevator dings, and Tank comes out, his gun up and a massive lump on the side of his forehead. Thank God. Our eyes meet, and I mouth, “Sorry.”
He smirks at me, and then Harris drags me backwards, his arm locked around my throat and the barrel of his pistol digging into my temple.