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)
“Yeah.”
The Fury member sped down some unknown, dark road while keeping one eye on the GPS app on the phone attached to the dashboard in a holder.
He blew through a stop sign and slammed on the brakes in the middle of an intersection, almost launching Romeo through the windshield.
“Warn a brother, will you?” Romeo yelled. “Jesus, don’t wanna fuck up this pretty face.”
Shade turned to look at him. “Get out.”
“What?”
“Get out, go hide on the side of the road and when the asshole stops, jump in and we’ll drive somewhere more isolated.”
“Then what?”
“No time for fuckin’ questions. Headlights are headin’ this way.”
Romeo glanced down the road and saw a glow in the distance. Fuck.
In a flash, he pulled on his leather gloves, kicked open the van door, jumped out and hid behind a tree that never would’ve hidden his ass in the daytime. Thank fuck he blended in with the dark night.
With his pulse racing, he peered around the slim tree trunk and tracked the oncoming vehicle. He sure as fuck hoped that Shade picked the right cross-street, and this wasn’t some random driver approaching.
Once the vehicle came over a small rise, the Porsche came to an abrupt halt, despite not having a stop sign. The vehicle remained there for a few seconds before Smith laid on the horn, rolled down his window and began to curse at Shade. “Get that hunk of junk off the roadway!”
Time to move. Romeo needed to get in that vehicle before Smith put his douche-mobile in reverse and found an alternative route.
As soon as Smith ducked his head back into his cage, Romeo jerked open the passenger door and jumped in. “Drive.”
“What the hell? You! You can’t be serious! Get the fuck out of my car!” As Smith reached for his cell phone in the center console, Romeo grabbed it first and slipped it into his back pocket.
While he was back there, he pulled his gun out of the holster tucked in his waistband at the small of his back. He wasted no time pressing the end of the barrel into Smith’s temple to show the asshole just how fucking serious he was.
Smith raised both hands in surrender, pleading, “Don’t shoot me.”
Proof the narcissist was nothing but a pussy under the surface. Being related to the Russos didn’t change that fact.
“Fuckin’ drive!” Romeo shouted and jammed the business end of the barrel harder into the side of his head, making Smith flinch. “Now, or I’ll splatter your fuckin’ brains all over this piece of shit.”
He was tempted. So fucking tempted.
Shooting the motherfucker would be the simplest way to deal with Smith but too fucking messy. Not only would Romeo be covered in Smith’s DNA, he’d have to worry about gunshot residue.
It would be too risky to take him out like that. But that didn’t mean his finger didn’t caress the trigger as that fantasy played out.
“Drive!” he shouted again.
“Didn’t you learn your lesson the first damn time?”
What a cocky bastard. “You admit you sent your goons after me.”
“And I’ll do it again.”
“Doubt that,” Romeo grumbled.
“You don’t know who you’re messing with.”
Fuck this asshole. “Pretty sure I do. Know your real last name ain’t Smith. Know who you’re connected to.”
“Then you have some balls to do this.”
“My balls are pretty fucking nice, if I gotta say so. Now quit flappin’ your veneers and drive.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Don’t and find out. Your choice.” He then warned, “Choose wisely.”
Smith slammed his hand on his steering wheel. “Never should’ve hired that bitch. Knew she was trouble from the start.”
“Don’t remember askin’ for any of your fuckin’ opinions. Now… Drive!” he barked.
With a tight jaw and him mumbling curses, Smith shoved the shifter from neutral into first gear. When he lifted his foot from the clutch, the car lurched forward.
“Follow that white van,” Romeo ordered, watching Smith’s hands carefully. The fucker could be packing on his person or in the cage. He kept his own gun glued to the man’s temple. “Better watch for potholes.”
Did Smith’s Adam’s apple just jump? Good.
It was an uncomfortable twenty-minute ride. For a while he wondered if Shade was fucking lost. His arm was getting tired from holding the gun steady and his hand was beginning to cramp.
When Shade finally pulled the van over, it was onto a dirt road in some corn field. No streetlights. No traffic. And the corn stalks were high enough to hide the Porsche easily.
Perfect.
Maybe he needed to give Shade more credit than being just a sociopath. It was possible he was smart, too. Romeo wouldn’t form a final opinion on his future stepdaddy-in-law until he knew him a lot better.
“Set the e-brake and shut this piece of shit down.”
“This car isn’t a piece—”
“Don’t give a fuck. Need to remind you that your shitty opinion don’t matter. On anything.”
“Now what?” Smith huffed after the engine went quiet.