Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 132332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
“Woo!” Murphy hits the dash again. “I knew she had it in her.”
I flick my gaze to the rearview. “Hang on, Carter.”
He and June are buckled down and hanging onto each other. He nods at me. “I just want to get gone.”
Driving seems a hell of a lot quicker than our stealthy walk through the property had been. I plow over the rough terrain, jerking the wheel to the left or right to avoid debris that seems to be scattered everywhere.
“Jesus, fuck,” Murphy breathes.
“Aw, what’s wrong? Not having any fun?” The insanity of the night coaxes my inner asshole out of hibernation and I give the steering wheel another quick twist.
“Keep being a dick and you’re gonna flip this thing,” he warns.
The trailer comes into view and I hit the brakes, skidding into a neat circle that sends a flowerbox flying through the air and ends with my tailgate a few feet away from the front steps and clouds of dust billowing around us.
“Show-off,” Murphy says, throwing open his door and leaping out of the truck.
I’m a little slower sliding out. My side burns in protest. I press my hand over the wound and ease out of the truck.
“You all right?” Murphy shouts.
“Fine.” I drop the tailgate and roll back the truck bed’s cover. “Hey, fun story, when we took you to the hospital, I wanted to load you back here but Heidi and Charlotte wouldn’t let me.”
Murphy gives me a sarcastic really, fucker? head tilt. “I’ll grab his legs. Just push if you’re too weak to lift him.”
“I can lift him, asshole.”
That might have been a bit too optimistic. A new pain rips into the skin where I’m still bleeding. “Shit. Let’s roll him onto a sheet, first.”
I run-hobble to the room where we found June and rip the filthy quilt off the mattress. We spread it out next to the body and roll the guy into a neat corpse burrito.
I give the body a quick test shove. “Better.” Together, we ease it out onto the front step.
“Almost there.” Murphy’s not even a little out of breath.
We push and slide the big floppy body, then lift and toss him into the truck. I roll the cover into place and slam the tailgate shut. “Now, let’s hope we don’t get pulled over.”
“Wouldn’t that just be a fucking perfect end to this shitastic night.” Murphy taps his fist against mine.
Gunfire explodes in the direction of where we left everyone.
“Shit.” We haul ass into the truck.
In the back seat, June whimpers. “Please, please don’t give me back to them.”
My indifference toward her cracks. “Stay down and out of sight back there with Carter.”
“Okay.” The seat belt unclicks and there’s a rustling sound as she slides onto the floor.
I didn’t mean right now, but whatever. Something presses into my back. She must’ve wedged herself between Carter’s feet.
I press the accelerator to the floor, not as worried about the obstacles this time. My brothers—and my father—are under attack. They need our help.
“You ready?” I ask Murphy, concentrating on the grassy field in front of us.
Murphy twists and snags his bag from the back seat. “Yup.” He tugs a Glock out of one of the side pockets, then a few extra loaded magazines, stashing them inside his vest. “Go right.”
“What? Why?”
He leans forward and points the muzzle of his gun toward the tire tracks I left on our earlier romp into the grass. “’Cause that ditch is gonna hit a lot different coming at it from this way.”
I turn right and head for a narrow opening between a cluster of trees. Branches screech against the metal as we roar through. My headlights sweep over the scene in front of us, too fast to make out any details.
We hit a mound of dirt hard. The truck bounces and flies a few feet in the air. We land with a jarring thump, the engine screaming. The knobby tires dig into the broken pavement, spraying bits of rock and dirt everywhere.
I screech to a stop, dust billowing around us. The scent of burning rubber fills the air.
In the glow of my headlights, four Lost Kings MC patches stare back at us. By the height and shapes it has to be Grinder, Z, Rock, and Wrath.
Rock turns, shielding his eyes with a hand. Even though I doubt he can see me, I feel the weight of his stare telling me to hurry up and get my ass over there.
I flick the lights off. “Stay here, Carter. No matter what.”
“Trust me, I’m not moving a muscle.” He groans. “You’re lucky I didn’t puke all over your upholstery.”
“June, you all right?” I ask.
“Yes,” she squeaks.
Murphy and I jump out, boots grating against the gravel. He swaggers around the front of the truck, snorting like a bull. “Let’s end these motherfuckers once and for all.”