Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 67263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
The French laughed.
Boris followed my foot movements, raising his legs high and stepping over. "Do you have to yell that out?"
"Better to look stupid, than to be dead. Plus, I have a weird plan working in my head."
Please, God. Let this plan work.
“Ghosts, we come in peace!” I stepped over the line of yellow leaves and slowly stepped down.
Nothing occurred.
Boris followed. His hands shook.
“Okay. Keep your eyes open, man.” Walking crazy, I resumed forward, kept the stick ahead of me, and kept my voice low. “If you follow me, we’ll get out of here fine and get rid of the French at the same time.”
“I hope so, Maxwell.”
“I got you, man.”
Right when we made it to the next line of yellow leaves, the shoe lace on my stick bent, signaling another trip wire.
I figured out dude’s pattern.
I counted three more yellow lines of fake leaves. “Damn. This motherfucker really isn’t playing around.”
“But you think the steps will be okay?”
“He didn’t plan for anyone to make it to the stairs.” I stepped over the yellow line, raising my knees. “Protect us, ancestors!”
“Yes. Protect us!”
The French laughed.
I checked behind me.
The Pansies looked to be joking with each other in French and pointing at us. Meanwhile, Jean-Pierre had stopped laughing and was now suspiciously eyeing us.
You’re not so easy to trick, huh?
Boris whispered next to me, “Why are we doing the whole ancestors thing?”
“Just get to the steps safely, Boris. Then, we’ll have some fun.”
Thunder crackled above us.
It took some minutes, but we got over all the lines of trip wire with no problem.
So close. So fucking close.
Terror filled me as I climbed onto the first step. When nothing occurred, I gestured for Boris to come.
I let out a long breath. “O-kay.”
Boris’s face held relief. “Now what?”
“The steps are good, but. . .I don’t know what will happen when we get on the porch. This Timur guy is probably hiding inside there with fucking all types of weapons and shit.”
"So. . ?"
"Perhaps, we don't even have to go to the porch."
"How?"
The French watched us whispering on the step.
“We have to go with a sort of. . .odd plan that I’ve been working on in my head this whole time.” I pulled out Jean-Pierre’s phone.
“Oh good. They didn’t take your phone.” Boris sighed in relief. “Now we can call Emily and—”
“This is Jean-Pierre’s phone. I stole it from him before I left the car.” I spotted Jean-Pierre’s face.
Confusion hit it. He spoke to the man next to him, probably wondering how I had a phone. I wasn’t sure if he recognized it was his yet.
“Let’s go up a few steps, but not the porch yet.” I was thankful Jean-Pierre’s phone didn’t need a code or fingerprint. Surely, the cocky Butcher didn’t think anyone would ever steal it from him.
Taking another step up, I found his contacts and searched for Eden, but couldn’t find her name. Lots of the words on there was words I couldn’t recognize. “Eh, Boris. Do you know French?”
Boris shook his head and stayed at my side.
I took another step up and went to the Butcher's missed calls log. There was one number that he called over and over. It wasn't Eden's name, but it was some French word that started with an R. I pressed on that number and placed the phone next to my ear.
Jean-Pierre’s voice sounded behind me. “Maxwell!”
You just realized it was your phone, man?
Eden’s voice came on the line, sounding sexy and speaking French.
Damn, baby.
I cleared my throat. “Hold up, Eden. I need you to speak in English.”
“Oh." She chuckled. "Who is this?”
“It’s Maxwell. Jean-Pierre is umm busy. . .talking to your father—”
“What? My father?”
“Yeah. It’s a surprise for you so don’t say anything. In fact, pretend like I haven’t said anything about it.”
“O-kay.”
I stopped on the fourth step and turned around. “Your father is a bit. . .private.”
“Very private,” Eden said. “He has a security system around the property. Be careful.”
"That's why I called. Do you have any tips?"
Jean-Pierre gestured for his men to head my way.
Eden’s tone shifted to worry. “I don’t know what his security system involves but he told me several times that if I come to the house, I am supposed to go to the dirt road around the first old house."
"The abandoned looking house?"
"Yes. He never fixed it up. There's a road on the side. That’s the way I always go.”
“The road?” I gazed out and spotted a small path to our right. “Oh, I see it. Where does it go?”
Jean-Pierre’s men headed toward the steps. They were at least five feet from the first line of yellow leaves.
Eden spoke, “The dirt path goes to his house and church, but I don’t think you all should go there. In fact—”
“Hey, you might be right.” I backed up, getting on another step. Boris rose with me. I cleared my throat. “I’ll tell Jean-Pierre that.”