Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 145088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Hammer exhaled and offered him a tense smile that bred yet more guilt. “I’d rather be the one to go. You just watch them and stay hidden. No unnecessary moves, is that clear? If worse comes to worst, here’s my gun.” He passed Dex his firearm.
“B-but—”
“No buts. You’re a good shot. Keep it, stay put, and I’ll be back soon enough,” Hammer said, already retreating the same way they came, like a white ghost whose cape swept away obvious tracks and who wielded a sledgehammer for protection.
Dex hit himself on the forehead and glared at the snow forming a dense layer on the cabin’s roof. Why did he always have to fuck something up? Hammer surely considered him irresponsible, and he needed to prove his usefulness if it fucking killed him. They were so close to achieving their goal, and if he let Ryker slip away, the bastard would never get punished for his betrayal.
It would take at least half an hour for Hammer to reach the spot where they’d hidden the motorbike, and more time to return uphill, so if push came to shove, Dex would need to take action. It shouldn’t be an issue. After all, he’d shot four people back at Cora’s while naked and cuffed to the sofa. How hard could it be to dismantle this group of drunk idiots?
Hammer did tell him to stay put, but he surely would have wanted for Dex to make his move if life presented him with the perfect opportunity.
The cold started getting to Dex even before Hammer’s broad form disappeared from sight. Unprepared for this kind of weather, he was wearing sneakers, which didn’t offer adequate protection from the freezing temperatures or snow, and while his new jacket had a hood to cover his head with, his forehead was left exposed.
How long did it take for toes to freeze off? And what would it feel like to get frostbite? He’d heard that people felt a surge of warmth when they were about to die of cold, but did it work the same way if only parts of the body were exposed to the elements? Would his toes start sweating if they entered that stage? He’d hate to lose a toe or finger, but if he had to choose, he’d go with the little toe, as it felt like the most redundant part of his body.
Dex put one of his cold hands under his jacket to keep it warm, and sank his face into the snow, letting it bite him as self-punishment when he realized that he’d left the gloves bought at Goodwill in Hammer’s saddlebag, along with the gun.
He needed to get his act together or else Hammer would soon realize what a fuckup he was, and once that happened, the road to their parting would be short and straightforward.
He could not let that happen. In fact, he needed to make sure that by the end of this job, Hammer looked at him with pride and—
Dex hunched when the back door of the cabin opened, but his blood ran faster, making his fingers tingle with heat when the snow-covered bush offered him a glimpse of the familiar blond mane.
Ryker put up the hood of a garment worn under a cool leather jacket, instantly making Dex self-conscious about his improvised getup. He scolded himself for even thinking about fashion when life and death were at stake, but that didn’t change the fact that seeing their mark looking so put together while he sparkled with diamante buttons made him feel pathetic.
“Focus, Dex. Focus,” he muttered under his breath, watching Ryker like a hawk while his mind suggested what could happen if he took advantage of the opportunity this situation offered.
He could take Ryker with him at gunpoint and present him to Hammer like a pig for slaughter. And then Hammer would tell everyone at the club how Dex snatched Ryker from under his buddies’ noses. The Demon Brethren MC would see Dex for the proficient man he was, and patch him in on the spot.
Getting such results would take some courage, and Dex had that in heaps.
By the time the other people inside the house realized Ryker hadn’t just gone for a brief walk, the fucker would be long dead.
Unaware of the pair of eyes following his every move, Ryker stretched and pulled out a cigarette, which he quickly lit up. His handsome face was sallow, as if he were hungover, and he gave a groan of relief when the flame from his lighter made the tip of his cig burn.
He uttered a curse and shoved both hands into his pockets, holding the smoke in as he turned on his heel and stared at the wooden logs making up the cabin.
Could he be thinking about all the mistakes that had led him to this moment? Dex couldn’t wait to make him regret every single one of those choices, especially framing Hammer to earn himself a free get-out-of-jail card. Dex wanted to pulverize that handsome face whenever he thought of how this could have ended for his man, but the kill belonged to Hammer, which meant that he couldn’t just shoot Ryker and call it a day.