Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 115186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
“Booger!” he shouted, hoping the prospect could hear him in the next room since the walls were thin. So thin that last night he could hear that stupid shit whacking off to porn. Not just once, but five fucking times. “Booger! Goddamn it!”
There was no way these assholes would let him keep shouting for help. But it was so damn whacked that they didn’t order him to shut up. So, until they stopped him, he would use his fucking voice since that was all he had.
“Booger! Wake the fuck—”
Romeo groaned. His tongue was as dry as a goddamn desert from whatever was tied around his mouth, effectively gagging him. He couldn’t see shit since the pillowcase was still in place.
However, it was pretty damn clear he was no longer in place and unwillingly on the move.
No voices could be heard, only the sound of an engine and road noise. And, of course, his own pounding heartbeat.
His head throbbed at the point where they knocked him out to shut him up. His good leg was now bound to his casted one, trussing him up like a turkey ready for the oven on Thanksgiving Day.
He had no idea who kidnapped him.
He had no idea where he was headed.
He had no idea how to fucking save himself since he couldn’t rely on his goddamn prospect. Apparently jacking off five times in a row made you sleep like the dead.
If Romeo somehow survived this, he would make sure Booger never got his fucking colors. Not after this. And if he did die, then his MC would make sure Booger wouldn’t need colors where they sent him for failing to protect his prez.
A mortal sin for a prospect.
Romeo grunted when the van, or whatever he was in, stopped suddenly and he rolled forward.
For fuck’s sake, just the trip alone was torture due to the pain.
He listened carefully to keep track of what was happening so he would be prepared in the slim chance he had an opportunity to escape. He logged all the sounds in his throbbing noggin.
The silencing of the engine.
The opening and slamming shut of both the driver and passenger doors.
The slide of a side door, confirming he was right about being transported in a full-sized van.
Wheels rolling towards the van. Not another vehicle. Something smaller. A cart? A gurney?
Suddenly, hands were on him again, sliding him across the van floor, lifting him up and dropping him onto a flat surface. His plaster casts slamming into the thin metal echoed through the night.
He gritted his teeth to endure the bumpy ride over what could be pavement, then up some kind of ramp. They took him into the cool and quiet interior of a building. Only the wheels rolling along concrete could be detected.
Why would La Cosa Nostra take him to some building in Manning Grove? That didn’t make any damn sense.
Had he been passed out longer than he thought? Had he been taken to Pittsburgh instead?
When the cart came to an abrupt halt, he was surprised he didn’t shoot off the end to be rudely introduced to the floor.
Without warning, he was jerked off the cart and onto some other metal, flat object. But this surface wasn’t solid. It felt more like a grate with holes against the bare skin of his back and cast-free leg.
The possibility of escape was flushed down the fucking toilet the second they lashed his ass down to whatever the metal grate was.
A moment later he heard a loud whoosh. Something—he had no fucking idea what—had been fired up.
What the hell was going on?
Was this the end for him?
Unexpectedly, the pillowcase was yanked over his head and the gag sliced free of his mouth with a big-ass knife.
He blinked and checked out his surroundings as best as he could. What the fuck was this?
Wait…
He twisted his neck to see where the heat was coming from that was searing his skin.
Holy fuckin’ shit.
He didn’t think the situation could get any worse until he realized he was on some sort of rolling pan that slid into a large oven.
He was right. He was a Thanksgiving Day turkey about to be cooked.
Christ. He did not want to die by being incinerated.
When he recognized his two abductors, it hit him where he was.
It wasn’t La Cosa Nostra. He hadn’t even left Manning Grove.
He was at Tioga Pet Crematorium, a business owned by the Fury. They had bought it for a good reason. And what they were about to do to him was one of them.
Son of a fuckin’ bitch.
Did Maddie go running to her goddamn stepdaddy? Did Shade know Romeo fucked her? Or even worse, popped her fucking cherry all those years ago?
With his eyes wider and his asshole pinched tighter than he wanted to admit, he asked, “Tell me what the fuck I did to deserve the death penalty?”