Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 138588 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138588 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
“Just like that?” Wayne asked, suspicion plain in his voice. “You’re not going to call in those friends of yours?”
Fuck. Wayne thought there was only one way to his place. He thought the road from the bar to his cabin was the only way to get here. He’d likely been watching the road and from what he knew, only the deputies had been up here.
He could use his reputation in this case. “I don’t have friends, Wayne. You know it. I have Wyatt and I have her, and you have both of them. What did you threaten her with?”
He needed to get to wherever Sabrina had gone. Elisa and Henry could figure the rest of it out.
Because he did fucking have friends. He did belong in this weird community. He was the sarcastic bastard who showed up for everyone in the end. Every group needed one. He was it.
“What do you think? I didn’t buy the you and Wyatt thing,” Wayne said over the line. “I know my brother, and he’s into women. So now I have his woman, but I’m thinking taking you in might save me some trouble. We can fix all of this, you know.”
Oh, he knew how Wayne would fix it. Wayne would fix it by killing them all.
“I think that’s an excellent idea. Where do you want me?” Sawyer asked.
“Come down the road with your hands up. If my men see even a hint of a weapon, you’ll be the first one to die,” Wayne said.
And Sawyer heard it. There was music playing in the background. Guns N’ Roses. He’d had to put it in the jukebox for Taggart, and it had the slightest scratchiness to the sound since he had an old-school juke.
They were at Hell on Wheels.
His stomach churned. Lark and Sid were there. Gil would be there. He prayed they were okay.
“I’m on my way.”
“Dump the cell, Sawyer,” Wayne warned. “Wouldn’t want people able to track you.”
Sawyer hung up. They would almost certainly move, but for now Sawyer felt like they had the advantage again. He turned to Elisa and Henry. “They’re at Hell on Wheels.”
Henry nodded. “I’ll let Nate know, and Elisa and I will follow.”
Elisa pulled a gun from her utility belt. “Take this, Henry.”
Henry’s head shook, his hands coming up. “Oh, no. Nell and I have an ironclad agreement. I’m supposed to try to kill in an earth-friendly fashion. I’ll use my hands. I’m good with them.”
He kind of wished Henry would take the gun, but he’d heard stories. “I’m going to join them. If they’re smart enough to watch the cameras, there’s one out in the back. I haven’t fixed it yet. It’s near the bins. You crouch low enough and you can access the back door. It’s almost never locked. Gil smokes too much. Hopefully my staff figured out what was going on and got into the office. It’s like a safe room. I’ll give Elisa the code.”
“Uh, have we forgotten the kiddo?” Van asked. “Maybe I should go in Henry’s place.”
Because the thought of being murdered by MC riders was apparently nicer than being left to take care of Poppy Flanders.
“Let her watch TV,” Henry said, starting for the side of the road. “She never gets to and she’s fascinated. And no sugar. I’m serious, guys. She turns into a monster. Good luck.”
Henry stepped back, and Sawyer would have sworn the man disappeared into the foliage. Elisa followed him but he could still get a hint of her.
He tossed his cell and jogged down the road.
It was time to save his family.
Chapter Nineteen
Sabrina was crying by the time she made it to the bottom of the road. She was still waiting for the sound of Sawyer running after her, but the road was eerily quiet behind her.
Twilight had deepened to night, but there was still enough light for her to follow the road.
All she could see was the photo they’d sent her. She might never get it out of her head. She’d gotten to the bedroom and hauled out her suitcase, and then her phone had dinged.
Wyatt. It had been from Wyatt’s number, and she’d known not to answer. Deep down there had been the instinct to treat the phone like it was a hot potato. She should have given it to her sister or Sawyer, but she hadn’t. She’d prayed it was really Wyatt.
It hadn’t been a call. It had been a text, complete with photographic proof they had Wyatt and could kill him at any moment.
The order had been plain. Come to Hell on Wheels. Don’t bring anyone or we’ll slit his throat.
They’d had a knife against Wyatt’s vulnerable neck, and she couldn’t tell if he was awake or unconscious.
She’d panicked. Her hands had been shaking as she’d written a quick note on the notepad on the nightstand. Come to HOW. Bring cops. Nothing more. Had he even found the note? She should have texted, but if she had hesitated for even a few more seconds and Wyatt died, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself.