Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 85183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
"Don't worry about me, doll," I say, taking her face in both hands and pressing my lips to hers.
Her fingers wrap around my wrists and hold me in place. She kisses me back harder, desperate to keep me there, but I pry myself away. And damn, is that hard. I force a smile onto my face.
"You gotta let me go." I step back, my eyes locked on hers. "I love you," I say before I shut the door. I watch the taillights disappear as Marney speeds off and inhale deeply.
"Now what?" Rich asks as he lights a cigarette.
"We hope to fucking God this guy's alone when he shows up."
We stand on the side of the road, guns in hand, and wait for the limousine to drive up. I've spent fifteen years imagining what the hell I would do when I finally get my hands on Joe Campbell, and now that I'm so close, it's a strange mix of excitement and fear. Headlights appear in the distance, and my heart drums into my throat.
"Alright, you check the back when he pulls up, okay?"
"Yep," Rich says. I hear the click of the gun cock.
The car slows and veers over onto the shoulder, dust flying up in the red taillights. I keep my finger on the trigger, stepping back into the tall grass as the black car rolls to a stop. I point the gun at the window as I reach for the passenger side door handle and open it. "You better be fucking alone," I say, staring in at Stan.
He glares at me, hatred written all over his face. "Where's my daughter?"
Rich moves to the back and opens the door. I see him climb inside out of the corner of my eye. "It's empty," he says.
"Roll the partition down," I order Stan before shutting the front door and getting into the back seat with Rich.
"Where is my daughter?" Stan asks again.
Ignoring his question, I press the barrel of the gun to the seat and glare at him through the opened glass. "I have this 45 Magnum buried in the seat behind you. You piss me off; I pull the trigger, and that bullet will rip right through your intestines. You do exactly as I say, or I will fucking kill you, and then your daughter doesn't stand a chance. Got it?" I exhale.
He doesn't say anything. "Got It? I shout.
"Yes," he growls.
"Good, now, drive. Don't stop until you get to the airport. You don't answer your phone if it rings."
His jaw ticks as he puts the car into drive and pulls off. It's silent, only the low hum of the tires rolling over the pavement. All I can think is this can't be so easy. If this guy said anything to Joe, tipped him off at all, this will not go as planned, and really, I don't expect it to. Nothing ever goes as planned in life. Nothing. I play out various scenarios of what may happen. Thinking maybe we're being driven to some abandoned house where fifty of Joe's men are waiting on us. The uncertainty causes my pulse to race. It's not that I'm scared to die, because I'm not. I'm afraid to leave her. I don't want to leave her. I can't leave her... I promised.
We pull up to one of the gates at the airport, and Rich shoves his gun into the waist of his jeans, flipping the bottom of his shirt down over it.
I push the door open, and he clamors out. "Get your fucking ass down to his gate right the fuck now," I say before slamming the door shut.
The limo navigates the airport drop offs. I glare through the partition at Stan. "Don't do anything stupid." I scoot, placing myself in the corner of the limo so Joe can't see me until he's inside. The car comes to a complete stop, and my heart immediately burst into a full-on sprint. While we wait, I watch the swarm of people pouring through the airport doors, my gaze frantically searching for Rich. I locate him standing to the side of the sidewalk, both hands shoved in his pants pockets.
Time seems to drag on; my body is pumped full of adrenaline. It's only been a half hour, but it seems like a fucking eternity, and then, I spot Joe exiting the doors. He's dressed in a black suit and red tie, briefcase in hand. My body heats the second I lay eyes on him. Each step he takes toward the car seems to be in slow motion. My heart violently slams against my chest, the sound of each hard beat is nearly deafening. I swallow when Joe reaches for the handle. Someone comes chasing after him, waving something in the air he must have dropped. Rich makes his way toward the car, standing directly behind Joe.