Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39161 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39161 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
We boarded a bus to take us to a village about six hours outside of Rodadero. My phone had been buzzing every half hour since I’d turned it on. It buzzed again, then the calls started coming every couple of minutes. I wanted to turn on the GPS on my watch but had to use the phone to turn the damned thing on.
Anytime I took a trip of any lengthy distance where cell coverage was questionable, my dad and Shotgun agreed to give me at least twelve hours before losing their Goddamned minds. It hadn’t quite been that long, but I was hoping and praying that Jax had gotten tired of waiting and they were finally going to activate the GPS remotely. And as much as my mom and dad loved me, I knew it would be Jax who would force the issue because Mom and Dad always tried to treat me like a responsible adult and abide by the agreements we made regarding safety. If Jax thought they needed to contact me earlier, he wouldn’t hesitate to ride roughshod over that agreement and do exactly what he deemed best for me.
To my tremendous relief, there was one long, continuous buzz for fifteen seconds from my watch. That was my signal that help was on the way. The phone had linked up with my watch to turn on its satellite GPS features. Now, if my phone got separated from me, Shotgun could still track my watch. It had been designed to save the battery. The satellite link would only turn on if I activated it, or Shotgun told it to.
Not a moment too soon either, because the bus braked hard. The driver gave a shout right before we slammed into something. My head hit the seat in front of me and knocked me silly. My ears rang and my vision blurred. There were screams all around me and a flurry of Spanish. A gunshot sounded in the confines of the bus. I cried out as my ears popped. There was a wet spray across my face and someone fell on top of me, pinning me to the floor of the bus.
“Everyone off the bus, now!” A male voice speaking in heavily accented Spanish shouted over top of all the screams and cries. There was more commotion as people moved down the aisle in a hurry, shoving and tripping over each other.
The weight on me shifted and I realized the person who had fallen on me was being dragged away. I fought to clear my head, to push through the hazy fog that had settled over my brain. The rapid pounding of my heart echoed in my ears while my chest constricted in panic.
I forced myself to open my eyes, wincing as the harsh sunlight hit me where it shined in through the broken bus window. When I could focus, I saw a pair of rough boots in front of me in the aisle.
I didn’t dare move. The man standing in front of me dragged me roughly to my feet and shoved me toward the back of the vehicle where the rear door was open. I stumbled forward and tried to brace myself to jump to the ground, but I was shoved, landing with a cry in a heap.
“Get up, bitch.” Again, I was manhandled, the guy dragging me to the rest of the group and shoving me hard. I tripped and went flying into the people in my party. I’d lost sight of Andrea and Chris, but figured I needed to worry about myself at the moment. Chris would take care of Andrea. If not, I’d do what I could, but I had to face the fact that I might not be able to save her. Or myself for that matter.
Around me, the chaos continued. The air was filled with the terrified screams and pleas for help. The heat felt like it intensified tenfold as fear and adrenaline coursed through me. I tried to stand but found myself dizzy and disoriented, falling back onto the ground. When I rubbed my face with my hand, it came back sticky. Blood streaked my fingers and the palm of my hand, but I didn’t think it was my blood. Which was when I remembered the person who’d fallen on top of me.
My gaze found the bus as they rolled a body out the back and onto the dirt road. Men were speaking Spanish to each other. Though I knew some Spanish, I couldn’t keep up with these guys. They gestured to the dead girl they’d shoved out the back of the bus, obviously upset for whatever reason. One of them was angry, the other on the defensive, but I couldn’t catch what they said.
“Get down! Get down!” I was certain that was the bodyguard with Chris. When I turned my head toward his voice, the large man had shoved Chris into the dirt. He had a small handgun out, tracking the guys who’d attacked us but not firing. The bodyguard seemed to be reluctant to shoot anyone and was more than a little scared. From the looks of things, he was panicking as much as everyone else.