Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76082 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76082 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
When I push off his chest, his shirt's wet with my tears. I don't even know if they come from anger, sadness or frustration, because I'm feeling just a little bit of each one. But there’s no harm in trying again.
Again, it rings and rings until it goes to voicemail. "Hey, Sandra. It’s me again. I know you’re mad, but there’s a lot you don’t know. We need to talk, okay? Love you.”
I feel lost when I hand the phone back to Animal.
"Maybe she's just busy." Animal tosses his phone on the table next to us, refusing to let go.
"Maybe. But I don’t like this.”
"She'll call you back. It's okay." He gives me a squeeze.
The phone buzzes. It’s only a text, but it’s from Sandra. I’ll call when I’m ready.
Badass reads it with a frown. “I’ll drive by tonight.”
This time, when I cry into Animal’s shirt, he doesn't let go of me until long after I've run out of tears.
27
BADASS
I cut the engine outside of Natalie's apartment. Fuck, Quickshot was right. It's a goddamn shithole. No fucking way we’re sending her back here to live when this is over.
And why does the idea of her living anywhere but with us piss me off so much?
I count windows, looking for the pink curtains Natalie described. The lights are on in the right ones. Either Sandra's shit at turning out the lights when she's out, or—more likely—she's home.
Good.
It's early evening, a faint reddish glow hanging low in the sky where the sun was not too long ago. Would she go out later? Nat thinks she has work in the morning, so probably not.
We should find out who owns the building. Maybe we can put some pressure on them to put a real fucking lock on the front door. An intercom system. Fuck, doors that won't be broken by any fucking schmoe who puts in a little effort. Affordable rent, I guess.
Fuck.
I should get back, but I'll hang out a little. Long enough to see some movement behind the curtains, make sure that she's actually there. With a little luck, I'll see her and know for sure.
I pull my bike onto its kickstand, then put my back against the wall of the pizza place across the road from them. It's closed, the door and windows boarded over. No one's going to give a fuck, and it explains a little of how fucking easy it was for the Unwanted to take off with Natalie. In these kinds of neighborhoods, if you see something, no you fucking didn’t.
By the time I see some movement, the last glowing ember of the sunset is gone. The streetlight above me is out, letting me watch from the shadows. The next one down, just outside the apartment building, flickers on and off to a rhythm only it knows. It makes the street look like it's in a fucking horror movie.
A shadow crosses behind the thin curtains in Natalie's apartment. Looks like Sandra's home. I'll give her a few more minutes just to make sure nothing's up, then head home. Natalie should be glad to hear it at least. Fuck, she's so worried about her little sister. The gods fucking know I know exactly how she feels.
Animal thinks I don’t understand why he feels the way he does. I do. I have for a long time, but there’s something about having a younger sibling look up to you… Shit, it terrifies me for the future. I want kids eventually, and I bet that’s the same times a fucking million.
I'm just about to fire up my bike when I sense movement in the shadows.
The fuck?
A couple of shapes separate themselves from the darkness, moving towards the apartment building. They're broad, definitely men, and it's obvious they're not looking to be seen. In this neighborhood, that could mean fucking anything. Dealers, burglars, who the fuck knows what else?
But there's something about the way they move that has me keeping still, waiting for a sign. It comes in the form of the streetlight flickering on, illuminating the two guys' cuts.
With the Unwanted logo across their backs.
Motherfucker.
We should still have a day before they make a move. Is Sandra involved in something we don’t know about? Or is she in trouble?
Nobody ever expects a guy as big as me to be able to move quickly, but that expectation won me a lot of fights when I was younger. I might not have the same reflexes as when I was at the top of my game, but I’m no fucking sloth. Keeping to the shadows, I slip after them to see what the fuck they're up to.
If they're here to cause trouble, I've got more than enough for each of them, and they can have as many fucking helpings as they want.
They test the front door to the apartment building. It rattles, but doesn't open. Someone actually fucking replaced the lock? I’ll have to let Quickshot know.